The Time is Now
by CeeCeeSings
Summary: My version of Book 7...I started this fanfic back in '06. Very in-canon through Book 6. Didn't get to finish before DH came out, so it fell out of canon. Now, I want to revive it and HOPEFULLY Finish it. Romance/Action/Drama. Mainly Ron/Hermione shipped, but Harry/Ginny as well. Told in rotating POVs from the main trio's perspective. Love, death, Horcruxes, the Burrow and more!
1. A Midsummer's Night Musings

An early August night's breeze blew through the open window, making the curtains dance dreamily. A nearly-full moon cast its bluish shadows on the sleeping houses and neatly manicured lawns of the drowsing suburban street. A dog barked in the distance, and another replied.

A young woman with dark, intelligent eyes and massive amounts of curly, messy brown hair gazed down on this peaceful, prosaic scene. It was impossible, she thought, to tell from here the havoc and turmoil that had ensued in the past few months and the real dangers that lie ahead, not only for her and the people she loved, but for the whole country.

Hermione sighed and shifted on the window seat. Sleep was a fair-weather friend, apparently, and it was the rare night this summer that she got more than a few hours of rest. Sometimes she wished her brain had an "OFF" switch…or at the very least, she could get her hands on a Pensieve. There was too much going on, inside of her and out, that she had very little control over, and it made her restless.

Trying to speak with her parents was frustrating. They were intelligent, open-minded people, but they couldn't really relate to her any more. For the first time in her life, Hermione had to edit her conversations with them. What would they say when she broke it to them she wasn't returning to Hogwarts? That, instead, she was running off – with two boys, nonetheless – to destroy the most evil wizard of all time? The looks she imagined on their faces were ones of almost comical horror, and would be funny, if only the topic weren't so deadly serious.

She yanked her hair in frustration. She supposed this was part of becoming an adult, but the fact that she was a witch, and lived, basically, in a different world than her parents had widened the canyon between they and she that much more. This would make the gap nearly impossible to bridge. She longed to be back in the wizarding world, to be with Harry and, of course, Ron.

Ronald Weasley. Was there anyone more infuriatingly, irritatingly, stubbornly, clumsily…loyal, good-hearted and brave? What a mass of contradictions he was, and was a mass of contradictions he caused in her heart. She was self-aware enough to know she was in love with him, and had been for the past few years. But Ron himself, what a mess he was. Harry was your typical clueless guy, but Ron made Harry's dealings with women look Cassanova-like in comparison.

Last year, she had finally, gently started revealing a bit of her heart to Ron, and in his own bumbling way, he had begun to respond. But, what was that disaster with Lavender all about? It had been hurtful and immature. She had a feeling that Harry could offer her some insight to Ron's erratic behavior, but that was another problem. Harry. She couldn't make Harry an intermediary between herself and Ron. Harry wasn't a fool, he had to sense there was a certain amount of tension between Ron and Hermione that didn't exist in her friendship with Harry. The whole situation was awkward and unfair. It was at times like this that Hermione found it difficult to have two male best friends. She needed a girl to talk to.

On cue, and almost, well, almost like magic, a feathery silhouette headed towards her open window. As the owl landed on the sill and ruffled its wings, Hermione grinned to herself. Thanks Ginny, she thought, and eagerly untied the scroll of parchment attached to Errol's leg. The owl hooted nervously, his head turning towards Crookshanks' languishing form on Hermione's bedspread. "Hang on, Errol, I may have a reply for you," she stroked his head soothingly

She unrolled the letter and read:

_Hi Hermione!_

I was glad to get your letter earlier…the only women to talk to around here are Mum, who's in a wedding-induced frenzy, and Phlegm, who just clogs my sinuses and makes my wand hand itchy for hexing. Wouldn't Bill be surprised if she walked down the aisle with purple tentacles sprouting from her forehead? Aahhh, well it's nice to imagine, at least.

But, more to the point, you wrote for advice and I am going to give it. (Though, considering my own currently frustrating romantic situation, I can't promise that it'll be any good!)

Hermione looked up from the letter and smiled to herself. She knew Harry's heroic but rash decision to break things off with Ginny wasn't going to last. All it was going to take was one afternoon of pick-up Quidditch in the Burrow's backyard – or maybe seeing Ginny in her bridesmaid's dress.

_From a sister's perspective, it's sorta hard to see any of my brothers as, well, fanciable. This is particularly hard with Percy, but that's mostly because he's such a prat in general. But we are discussing dear Ronnie, aren't we? Hermione, listen to me. Ron is a bit immature and hot-headed. Insensitive at times, even. But there's no doubt in my mind that he fancies you. As much as you guys argue, go head-to-head, you bring out a tender side of him that no one else really can. He worries about you when you aren't paying attention, and draws comfort from you._

Hermione brushed a stray tear from her cheek and remembered being comforted by Ron at Dumbledore's funeral. At the time, she felt like she was holding on to a life raft. Not out of desire, but out of need. It was like breathing. It seemed a little impractical to be bothered about fancying her best friend when so much else was at stake, but she needed him. His friendship, his warmth, his love, now more than ever.

_Besides, this week I caught him checking himself out in the mirror at least three times a day and even found him attempting a Vanishing spell on some of his freckles. He certainly isn't going to all that fuss for our Aunt Muriel or Grannie Weasley! I know you are coming for the pre-wedding festivities on Friday, but why don't you head over here a bit earlier so we can chat in person? Send word back with Errol tonight, and you can Apparate as early as tomorrow morning if you'd like. Mum'd love to have you, and Harry is coming tonight – in fact, he may be here by the time you read this. Now that he's of age he can leave those dreadful Muggles he lives with. **Sigh!** I suppose you and I will just have to look as ravishingly beautiful as we possibly can to wake up the pair of gits we're in love with._

I know the three of you are going after You-Know-Who when this whole wedding hoopla is over, but is it so wrong of me to want you here to help me fix my hair in the meantime? ;-)

Love,

Ginny

Hermione smiled. There really was something special about those Weasleys, there was no denying it. She flipped the letter over and scrawled,

_Ginny,_

Thanks so much! I will Apparate tomorrow morning before breakfast. Expect me at the Burrow by 9 a.m. and ask your mum to save me some of her fantastic blueberry pancakes.

Chances are we'll get some "girl talk" in since neither of our gits will be awake yet!

Love,

Hermione

She watched Errol fly away until he was no more than a blurry speck against the moon. Abandoning her reverie at the windowsill, she stretched out on her bed, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears. With a mind just as full as it had been a few hours before, but more at peace, she drifted to sleep with a small smile on her face, and thoughts of the Burrow in her heart.


	2. Consideration, Conversation and Chuckles

Ron Weasley's head fell backwards and hit the trunk of the tree he had propped himself against, jarring him awake. He scrubbed his face with his hands, hoping to clear the fuzziness from his brain. The desired clarity did not arrive. Things really hadn't been quite right since that horrible night last month. Dumbledore dead, Bill maimed, Snape and Malfoy escaped. Ron was afraid things weren't going to be quite right for a really really long time.

He stretched a bit, rested his elbows on his knees. There really wasn't any place better than the Burrow's backyard on a summer night. Stars gleamed serenely above him in a grand expanse of sky, broken only by the jumbled, haphazard outline of the Burrow itself. It seemed impossible that in a few days' time, he was going to leave this place, his home, his family, without the promise of returning. But there wasn't one second of hesitation in his mind. His place was with Harry, helping him track down the Horcruxes, destroying the remnants of Voldemort's soul so that the world would be safe again.

It was really unbelievable, Ron thought to himself. _Who would have thought, me? Me on a quest with the most famous wizard of my generation – my best friend, nonetheless - to destroy the most infamous wizard of all time?_

All those years, he had felt shunted around, no place for boring old Ronald Weasley, who couldn't match up to his brothers - not as dashing and daring as Bill, as athletic as Charlie, as brainy as Percy (who turned out to be an insensitive arse anyway) or as funny and jollying as the twins.

The enormity of what he was about to do had hit him gradually over the last week or so. All those scrapes, near-misses, and adventures of the past few years, the danger of these things had never weighed on him before. Trolls, murderous chess pieces, gigantic spiders (Ron shivered involuntarily) flying brains, Death Eaters – when faced with these things, he had just reacted, he hadn't pondered the danger of the situation.

Ron smiled ruefully to himself and remembered the eleven-year-old who had gazed into the Mirror of Erised and wished for the simple joys of a Quidditch trophy and a Head Boy badge. That boy had just wanted someone to notice him, to pick him out the crowd of talented older brothers and famous best friend and see him, as he was, and think he was important and special as well.

He had come a long way from that boy in the past six years – hadn't he held the Quidditch cup in his hand? Didn't he have a prefect badge pinned to his robes? But…but, more than that. Ron thought, hoped, that someone did think he was important. Someone who noticed everything, from a smudge of dirt on his face to the errors she corrected in his Potions essays. The person who, if Ron had The Mirror of Erised sitting in front of him now, would be smiling back at him. He couldn't understand why the thought of her scared him so much.

He was saved from his rambling thoughts by the smack of the Burrow's back door opening. Ginny was jogging towards him, her long hair bouncing against her t-shirt.

"Can I sit?" She asked, and plopped down beside him without waiting for a reply. "Mum's having kittens in there. She wanted real fairies for the centerpieces, but the lanterns keep popping open. I think Fred and George put an Anti-Locking charm on the hinges. There are fairies all over the house…" and sure enough, as they watched, two glowing orbs zoomed out of the kitchen window and into the night.

"Fairies? Is that the only reason you came out here, Gin?" Ron knew it wasn't. Ginny was here for the same reason he had originally come outside. Mr. Weasley had gone to fetch Harry from Privet Drive, and despite the lateness of the hour, Ron had wanted to greet his best friend when he arrived. Besides, all this wedding nonsense had turned the household upside-down, so no one was really sleeping very well this week anyway.

"No, of course not. I came to wait for Harry. I want to see him," she shrugged. Her straightforwardness never ceased to amaze Ron. Topics that made him want to curl up into a ball or leave the room, muttering and red-faced, Ginny tackled head-on. Actually, he had learned to respect his little sister a lot this summer. True, he still felt the urge to protect her – even from things she didn't want to be protected from – but his opinion of her had shifted since the night Dumbledore had died. She had fought bravely alongside Hermione, he and the others. She was fun to be around, a terrific Quidditch player, and easier to talk to than his brothers.

"Also," Ginny continued, scanning the sky, "I am waiting for Errol to get back. I thought he, and Harry come to think of it, would get here sooner."

Ron lay back, stretching out on the grass, "Who're you expecting post from?"

"Hermione."

"Hermione!?" Ron sat back up with a shot, unconsciously tidying his hair.

"Yes," Ginny grinned, "You remember her, don't you? Impossible hair, sort of bossy, annoyingly right all the time?"

"Very funny. You might have told me you were writing her, I may have wanted to send something along," he grumbled. He didn't like the way Ginny was smirking at him. Nor did he think her description of Hermione, though said in jest and fondly, was entirely accurate. Ok, yes, her hair really was a bit of a mess, but it was endearing, really, that someone who was so together and in control had such insane hair. And, sure, she was a bit pushy, and frankly annoying sometimes, but that was because she had her friends' best interests at heart. Ginny also had failed to mention how Hermione's eyes lit up when she was able to track down some obscure piece of information or solve a particularly puzzling task.

"Oh, you have got it bad! Almost as bad as I do, I think!" Ginny giggled and hugged her knees to her chest. "You look as goofy as Luna does when she's talking about Crumpled Horkstacks or whatever-she-calls 'em."

"Shuddup, Gin," Ron muttered.

"What's the big deal? It's not like it's a secret that you two are crazy about each other! Ron, let me tell you something – if you're worried Hermione's going to turn you down, don't be. It's a sure thing," Ginny soothed.

"It's not that. It's - it's - dammit!" He hit the ground in frustration. How could he explain to his sister how afraid he was, not only for himself, but for Harry and Hermione as well? He longed for his former naivety and thoughtlessness, but he knew that no amount of wishing would get them back. He wasn't afraid of his own death nearly as much as the possibility that one or both of them would die – leaving him alone. The idea of caring about Hermione even more than he already did, and then losing her, turned his stomach to ice. He had contemplated writing to Harry a dozen times this month, and urging him to leave for Godric's Hollow ahead of schedule, just the two of them. Common sense had stayed his hand each time. Not only would Hermione track them down eventually, they needed her smarts and careful hand to stay their impetuousness. But it didn't warm the chilly depths of his stomach to know this.

Meanwhile, his sister was staring hard at him. Her face softened a bit. "I know, Ron. I understand. You think to yourself, 'How bad could it get? Could my heart actually split in half?' Don't think you are alone in this – god, I've got all of you leaving me. You're my brother, Hermione's one of my closest friends, and Harry, well, Harry's Harry. But, don't you remember what McGonagall said the night Dumbledore died? Isn't it better to have a little more love in the world? You and Harry, both of you, think you're protecting the people you love…when really, you are just trying to protect your own hearts."

She was right. He didn't know what to say. Luckily, both he and Ginny were distracted by the uneven sound of wings flapping towards them. They jumped up, tracking Errol's sloppy flight towards the Burrow. Ginny held out her arm and the owl landed precariously. He bounded clumsily away the moment she untied the scroll from leg. She read it, chuckled to herself, and grinned up at Ron.

"Well, you better get yourself together. The girl herself will be here in less than nine hours," Ginny said. With these words, Ron's stomach went from cold to hot to cold again.

"How about you? You've got less time than that, unless Dad and Harry went off clubbing with some Muggles in London or something," Ron fired back. Brother and sister grinned nervously at each other for a moment, and then started laughing. They couldn't stop. Each time they got their giggles under control, they caught each other's eye and cracked up again. It wasn't even funny really, but they couldn't help themselves. Ron felt some of the tension and worry of the past month slip away. Ginny leaned on his arm as she tried to compose herself.

"What's going on here? Simultaneous Weasley breakdowns? Want to clue a fellow in on the joke?" The Weasleys gasped and looked up. Two familiar forms were striding across the lawn, and as Ginny and Ron waved, Harry broke into a run to greet his friends.


	3. The Best-Laid Plans

Harry breathed deeply as he and Mr. Weasley Apparated directly on top of some shrubs growing on the side of the Burrow. Apparating was never going to be his favored choice of travel. He tumbled to the ground, hearing laughter coming from around the back of the house. Sounded like Ron – and Ginny. His heart beat a bit harder.

"Alright there, Harry?" Mr. Weasley offered him a hand, dusting off his own cloak with the other.

"Fine, Mr. Weasley, thanks," Harry replied, straightening his glasses.

"Looks and sounds like everyone is still awake," Mr. Weasley smiled absently at the Burrow, which had lights blazing from every window, and headed towards the backyard.

Harry followed him and saw Ron and Ginny standing under the huge maple that dominated the Burrow's backyard, gasping for breath, laughing hysterically. They got themselves under control, glanced at each other, and broke into giggles again. Ginny hung onto her brother's arm for support, her red hair and white t-shirt bright spots in the shadow of the trees. She looked so damned good to Harry he nearly dashed over and scooped her up into his arms. But no. That wasn't in the plan. He had to think of her and her safety above everything else.

He cleared his throat and tried for a jolly tone, "What's going on here? Simultaneous Weasley breakdowns? Want to clue a fellow in on the joke?" They looked up. Ron grinned and Ginny actually jumped up and down as she waved. He couldn't help it. He broke into a run.

"Harry, we thought you'd never get here!" Ron grabbed him first, shaking his hand and giving him a rough, one-armed hug.

Ron released him and he was engulfed by a certain flowery scent and a much smaller pair of arms. He hugged Ginny tightly, putting his hand on the top of her head. Her freckled cheeks were inches away from his, and more to distract himself than anything else, he glanced over at Ron. Instead of looked annoyed or uncomfortable, his best friend was grinning at him. In fact, he seemed to be fighting back another bout of laughter.

"What took you so long?" Ginny asked, her arms still firmly around his neck. She had that steely gleam in her eyes, and Harry wondered if he had honestly thought she was going to give him up without so much as a squeak of protest.

"Well, erm, Harry and I had a bit of a – a situation – with erm, some Muggles," Mr. Weasley had reached the three teenagers.

As her father approached, Ginny let go of Harry and whispered in his ear, "I'll be good – for now." She stood distractingly close behind him, though.

"What's this about Muggles, Dad? Not the Dursleys, was it?" Ron glanced inquiringly from his father to Harry.

"No, it wasn't the Dursleys, Ron," Harry tried to catch Ron's eye. He didn't think Mr. Weasley really wanted to get into details about the "situation", which included an unscheduled detour into a pub (Mr. Weasley had begged Harry to show him how the cigarette machines worked), a very drunk barrister, an exploding wig and a permanently singed pair of knickers (Mr. Weasely's). For once, Ron seemed to catch on and shrugged.

"Oh, well, then that's alright isn't it? At least the pair of you made it here," Ginny kissed her father on the cheek and linked arms with him. "C'mon, Dad, I'll make you a cup of tea – that is, if Mum's gotten all the fairies in their cages, of course."

"Fairies? What fairies?" Harry heard Mr. Weasley query, as Ginny, with one long look back, ushered him into the house. He stared after her for a moment.

"I know you're trying to be noble and all, but I think you're fighting a losing battle there, mate," Ron's voice startled him.

"Yeah. I think I figured that out the minute I walked around the house and saw her," Harry sighed.

"I suppose that's to be expected when you fancy smart, strong-minded girls," Ron shrugged, blushed, "They know what's better for us then we do ourselves."

"Us?" Harry said. He thought he knew where this was going. His suspicion was confirmed when Ron's ears darkened to a plumy shade. But to his credit, Ron held Harry's gaze.

"Hermione will be here tomorrow morning, Ginny's just had an owl from her," Ron's face couldn't possibly get any redder. Harry knew how awkward this was for Ron, to directly acknowledge fancying their best friend. "Ginny, she says – I've got nothing to lose, that I just need to go for it. The problem is, mate," Ron stared down at his hands, and Harry could tell he was really struggling, "the problem is, I feel like we're all about to lose everything. Now, now don't get the wrong idea, I'm not trying to back out on your or anything, I wouldn't dream of it, it's just sorta hit me, that I may never see this place, see them, ever again," Ron waved helplessly at the Burrow. "But worse, worse would be if I – I did make it back here – without you and Hermione." Ron opened his mouth again, closed it. His face was half-turned from Harry and his Adam's apple was working furiously.

Harry stared at his friend and realized how very lucky he was to have the friends he had. The past month at the Dursleys' had been a nightmare, mostly because Harry kept replaying the night of Dumbledore's murder in his head, trying to find a way he could have prevented it. He had spent most of his nights thinking of all the people who had died because of him – no, he had to stop that, no one died because of him, they died because of Voldemort – his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. He had to face the impossible to conceive, but likely idea that he might lose Ron or Hermione, or both of them, as well. That's why, he thought to himself, that's why I want to keep Ginny safe. But no one's safe. Not anymore. Now was not the time to dwell on what had been lost, or what might be. Now was the time to fight – and to appreciate what they had.

"Look Ron," Harry began, struggling to put his feelings into words, "I agree with Ginny. I was – am – an idiot for thinking I could push her away. And you're not too bright, either, if you think you can do the same to Hermione," Ron's head swiveled to face his friend. "No one knows what's going to happen, right? There's no spell strong enough, no wizard wise enough, to make sure that everything and everyone's going to be ok. You, me, we've got to accept that and not stop living, or caring about people." Harry paused. "You know, I spent most of the past year being angry about Sirius' death. I blamed myself, I blamed him, even blamed Dumbledore in my head. But, you know? Never once did I wish I hadn't met him, that I hadn't gotten to know him. I guess that's the risk that comes with caring about someone, you may lose them." Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn't spoken about Sirius with anyone in a long time.

"You know what, Harry? You're right. Ginny said pretty much the same thing, in her own way. I just – I just have to go for it," Ron clapped him on the back.

"Ronald Weasley! You bring Harry in this minute, I want to say hello!" Mrs. Weasley's stout form appeared in the doorway, her wand in one hand, a struggling fairy in the other. "And if that doesn't convince you boys, I've got some Floating Fudge Fritters I need taste-tested." She turned back into the house.

"I'm really gonna miss your mum," Harry said as they headed into the Burrow.

"Yeah, me too," Ron replied, reflecting, "especially her cooking." They grinned at each other and walked into the glowing kitchen.


	4. Sweet as Blueberry Pancakes

Hermione stood in the cool, early-morning shade of the Burrow's backyard. This place just made her feel good. She stretched and smiled, bending over to let Crookshanks out of his basket. He took off in a blur of ginger fur into the side hedges.

Her smile faltered a bit when she thought of the letter, in a plain white envelope, sitting on the tiny kitchen table in the house she had just left. She had sat there, in her parents' kitchen, clutching the letter in her hand, watching the sunrise and both hoping and fearing that her mum or dad would come down early and catch her sitting there. In the end, however, she couldn't bear the idea of telling them face to face. She left the letter and snuck out of the house like a thief.

"Hermione! I thought that was you!" Mrs. Weasley's smiling, waving figure stood in the doorway, "I've got your requested blueberry pancakes, come in, dear, come in!"

"You're a lifesaver Mrs. Weasley, I'm starved," Hermione grinned and waved her wand at her trunks, which tagged along beside her like faithful pets.

"Yippee! Another girl in the house," Ginny bounced up from the long kitchen table, gave Hermione a squeeze, "No offense, Mum."

"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Weasley turned distractedly to Ginny, while several pots, pans and skillets clattered around on the stove and a spatula flipped pancakes on a griddle. She looked from her daughter to the rafters of the kitchen, where dozens of ornate metal lanterns were hung. Hermione followed her gaze and heard tiny snores emanating from the center of each, wherein reclined a dozing fairy. She grinned at Ginny.

"See what I mean? Wedding-induced senility," Ginny bit into her toast with a chuckle.

"So, Mrs. Weasley, everything ready for the wedding on Saturday?" Hermione asked as she dug into her pancakes and took a bracing sip of coffee.

"Well, you know, Hermione dear, it's going as well as can be expected, of course," Mrs. Weasley sighed, continued, "Bill's recovery has been nothing short of amazing, though he will always have those scars…" she paused for a moment, but seemed to gather inner strength, "But overall, I think it's going to be a lovely party, just what we all need right now…" she trailed off again, and the two girls looked worriedly at each other over their breakfast.

The melancholy mood was broken, however, by two loud popping noises. Hermione suddenly had a lapful of Weasley twin. She shrieked in surprise.

"Ah, Fred, I told you to concentrate a bit better, you know you have a bit of a time Apparating before breakfast," George stood to the side of the table, stuffing a pancake practically whole down his throat.

"Hermione! Spiffing good to see you! I knew the Burrow seemed smarter this morning," Fred greeted her, wiggling in her lap a bit. He plucked her coffee mug out of her hand and took a long slurp.

"Fred Weasley, you are the absolute limit. Please remove yourself from my lap," Hermione hissed this from between her teeth with as much dignity as she could muster. She could feel her face burning. The twins' complete lack of self-consciousness had always embarrassed her (and also, secretly, made her a bit jealous). Ginny, she saw, had collapsed across the table, laughing.

"Oh, darling, must we always fight?" Fred batted his eyelashes at her, and slung the arm holding the mug around her neck. He took another swig of her coffee, dragging her along with him.

"Fred, leave the poor girl alone, for heaven's sake," Mrs. Weasley admonished, but Hermione saw the corner of her mouth twitch a bit.

"Oh, but Mum, can't you see? Hermione and I are trying to work out our differences, aren't we dearheart?" Fred settled down more firmly onto her lap, plucking a pancake from her plate. "Mum, dish ish delicioush. 'Ermione, 'ere, have a bitesh." Fred aimed the fork at her face.

There was another popping noise – or rather, a splintering one – and the chair collapsed beneath them. Hermione lay on the floor, covered in coffee, melted butter and warm maple syrup. She shook her hair out of her eyes, looked up at Fred, who was still reclining on her, an expression of horror on his face. He caught her eye and tried to scramble off her, but slipped in a stray pile of syrup and came crashing back to the ground. She took a deep breath.

"You know, Fred, I am sorry to say I don't think we're going to be able to settle our differences," she grabbed the fork from him, which he miraculously had held on to. She bit off a lady-like piece of pancake and chewed thoughtfully, "But, he's right Mrsh. Weasely, theesh are delicioush." The entire kitchen exploded with laughter.

"What in bloody hell is going on here?!"

Hermione choked on her pancake. Ron and Harry were standing on the stairs, surveying the disaster below them. Fred bounced up and held out his hand to Hermione, who struggled to her feet. This wasn't exactly how she had planned on spending her morning. What happened to girl talk and endless analysis with Ginny? And when did Harry and Ron ever wake up before 10 a.m. anyway? She hadn't been planning to change into a ball gown or anything, but she'd have preferred to be, uh, syrup-free (and not being accosted by his older brother) the first time Ron saw her today.

"Harry old chap, when did you sneak in? Ronnikins! You just missed Fred and Hermione's demonstration of the new sport that will be sweeping the wizarding world! Co-ed pancake wrestling!" George bounded over and wrung Harry's hand.

Hermione wasn't quite ready to meet Ron's eye. Ginny smiled at her and shrugged, as if to say, "Whaddya gonna do? These things will happen." She turned to her two best friends.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry engulfed her in a hug, seeming unbothered by the various breakfast condiments gluing her clothes to her body. "Kind of odd to see you're the cause of all this chaos." He smirked fondly at her. She turned to him. To Ron.

"Erm, that's a very nice look, for your hair. Very…sticky," he smiled nervously at her. He reached out and pulled a stray piece of dough out of the offending curl. Her stomach plummeted and rebounded. He was just…so tall. His ears were red but his blue eyes were twinkling. He seemed to be debating something as the rest of the kitchen went back to business as usual.

"Thanks a bunch," she replied, not sure what was behind his teasing. Was he taking the mickey or, well, flirting?

"You know, Hermione," he cleared his throat and pitched his voice low, so only she could hear him above the chatter and clatter of the rest, "You know what a big fan of food I am, but you didn't have to cover yourself in it to get me to notice you. I've been noticing you for a pretty long time now." His face matched his hair, but he looked pleased with himself nonetheless. He reached out again and wiped a smear of butter off her burning cheek, and her stomach flip-flopped in return. He held her gaze for a second and then joined Ginny, Harry and the twins at the breakfast table.

_Forget plans, _Hermione thought as she began cleaning herself off, _this looks like it's going to be great day, plans be damned. _Ron glanced up at her from behind his overflowing breakfast plate and grinned at her. _Life's just chock-full of surprises, isn't it?_ And she went to get herself another plate of Mrs. Weasley's delicious blueberry pancakes.


	5. Bravery Before Breakfast

**A/N: Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers! I am having a blast myself revisiting, revising and reworking this story to what you guys are seeing now. The next few chapters are pretty "romantical", but then the action and adventure really ramp up! ~ CeeCee**

Though he and Harry had stayed up for a bit chatting last night, Ron had bolted awake in the morning shortly after sunrise. Harry had slipped out a few minutes ago for a shower and a shave. Ron dressed and then wandered aimlessly around his bedroom, until he heard his mother's voice from downstairs, calling a greeting to Hermione. Ron felt nauseous.

_Ok, Weasley, calm down. It's just Hermione, right? I mean, you've known her for six years, get it together! _This didn't help. Hermione wasn't "just" anything. She was Hermione. Not like a lot of girls. For example, Lavender, was just, well_ Lavender_. She was a person whose existence Ron hadn't even registered until she'd wanted to snog him.

Hermione was…lots of things. As irritatingly snotty as she could get, she always knew when to back off (well usually). She also could be unerringly kind just when he needed it the most. As, when Percy had sent him that terrible letter fifth year about Harry and on top of which, he was bogged down with all that homework, she had stepped in and helped him out, without a word.

He realized that in the past few years, he'd started to rely on her support and her admiration, and didn't much care when she excluded him from praise. For god's sake, he'd even found himself jealous of her behavior towards _Harry_ a couple of times last year, which just showed how daft he was getting. He squared his shoulders, grinned uncertainly at his reflection in the mirror and nodded. _Right! So, you're just going to go down there and…what, exactly? Profess your love to her in front of Harry? And Mum and Ginny?! _And oh god, did he just hear Fred and George voices join the women's in the kitchen?! Ron gripped the side of the dresser to steady himself. Had he really thought he was going to be able to do this?

Harry's grinning face appeared at the doorjamb. "Well, sounds like your destiny has arrived, Ron." He took in his friend's face for a second and burst out laughing. "Hey, mate, it's not an appearance before the Wizengamot, it's just breakfast…and Hermione." Harry seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Very funny. Sorta like Ginny's just my little sister, right?" Harry shook his head, smiling, but Ron felt marginally better. Well, not really, but he was getting hungry.

They pounded down the stairs, Harry in the lead. Just before the kitchen came into view, there was a tremendous crash. They looked at each other and hurried down the last flight. Ron's mouth hung open. To one side of the table stood his Mum and George, clutching a spatula and a pancake, respectively. Ginny was collapsed across the table, her shoulders shaking with laughter. And there she was. Sprawled out on the floor and covered in smears of brown, chunks of pancakes…and Fred. Fred, who was lying directly on top of her. As Ron tried to make sense of it all, Hermione pulled a fork from his brother's hand, took a bite of pancake, and stated "But, he's right Mrsh. Weasely, theesh are delicioush."

At this, even his mum started laughing. Ron felt particularly left out. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, "What in bloody hell is going on here?!"

The entire kitchen scrambled around at his indignant query. Vaguely, Ron registered George babbling some nonsensical greeting to Harry. Ginny lifted her head off the table and his mum turned back to the stove. But Ron was really only paying attention to one person. Fred was helping her off the floor (jealousy tightened his chest when he saw his brother grip her hand). Her cheeks were rosy, her clothes were a disaster and her hair – well, her hair had almost achieved interpretive art status. She'd never looked better to him.

She made her way over to Harry, who teased her and engulfed her in a hug. Ron was envious of how easy it was for Harry to touch her. Harry caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in encouragement as he released Hermione and sat down next to Ginny.

Hermione looked up at him, attempted a dignified expression, though her hair seemed to be doing an impersonation of Devil's Snare, and her shirt was sticking to her body in patches. He wanted to hold her like he had at Dumbledore's funeral, but it had seemed necessary then, almost as if he couldn't have stopped himself he tried. Now, in this loud sunny kitchen, there was no excuse really, to touch her, except –

"Erm, that's a very nice look, for your hair. Very…sticky," he stuttered, and pulled a piece of pancake out of her hair. He wished he could just leave his hand there and pull her close. But he felt almost unable to take any action towards her whatsoever. He may just wind up standing there all day, three feet and miles away from her.

"Thanks a bunch," She had thrown her head back to look up at him, and a very Hermione-ish scowl crossed her face. Gee, she was cute. She looked embarrassed and unsure, and well, maybe a bit sad. And then it came to him, that she was just as uncomfortable and scared and worried as he was. Ginny and Harry and McGonagall – all of them, they were right. How bad could it be to have a little more love in the world? Even knowing this, he wasn't quite brave enough to plant a kiss on her in front of his whole family. He opened his mouth with very little idea of what he was going to say.

"You know, Hermione," he stuttered quietly, feeling his face burning. "You know what a big fan of food I am, but you didn't have to cover yourself in it to get me to notice you. I've been noticing you for a pretty long time now." Oh, god. He couldn't believe he had actually just said _that_. But her brown eyes lit up and her face got a shade pinker, and he was glad that he had. And the little smile that was playing across her mouth made him brave enough to wipe a greasy smear of butter off her cheek. She stood there, mute. He was feeling pretty proud of himself – he had rendered Hermione Granger speechless.

He made his way over to the breakfast table and situated himself across from Harry, who gave him a questioningly look. He grinned. Harry, who was sitting awfully close to Ginny, grinned back. Ron ravenously began piling his plate with everything in sight. He snuck a peek at Hermione, who was standing right where he had left her, siphoning herself clean with her wand. She caught him staring. His smile got so big he thought his face might be cut in two. She smiled back, blushed, and made her way back to the table and sat on the other side of Ginny, so Ron had an excellent view of her.

"Ah, Hermione darling, I must confess I don't think you and I are going to work out," Fred handed her a fresh plate of pancakes as he dug into his own staggering breakfast. "I just foresee too much…broken furniture…in our future if we stick with it."

"Well, Fred, you know, I think you may have a point. A relationship based on pancakes just isn't enough," Hermione pretended to muse, "Besides, I'm not sure you'd do well with a witch cleverer than yourself." She smiled wickedly, and Ron chuckled with the rest of the table. That was one of the best things about Hermione; she had a devilish side that most people didn't recognize. One second she was telling someone off for not finishing his homework, the next, she was smacking Malfoy in the face.

"Touché!" Fred exclaimed, "Well, I guess I'd better gather up the pieces of my broken heart and move onto stupider pastures. Whatever will become of you, though, dearheart?"

"Oh, well, Fred, I think I'll manage," she smiled, but Ron noticed her cheeks blooming pink again and she was staring at her plate. He thought she'd leave it at that. Then, to his surprise, she lifted her head and stared across the table, right at him. "But, as much as I'd like to say it's possible to plan each detail of romance, or get a formula out of a book or something, it doesn't usually work that way...it's more about bravery and taking chances, right?"

At that moment, Ron really didn't care if he ever saw another Quidditch cup or prefect badge for the rest of his life.


	6. Ginny, Asked and Answered

As Mrs. Weasley ushered all the young people out into the hazy August morning, Harry wondered with a smile whether anyone had eaten anything at all for breakfast. He himself spent most of his time trying to ignore the smell of Ginny's shampoo and the small, distracting weight of her hand on his knee.

When he did take the time to observe the others, he noticed that Ron and Hermione spent more time sneaking glances at each other than paying attention to their breakfasts. Ron had actually dumped an entire plate of sausages onto his lap (much to the hilarity of Fred and George) and Hermione may as well not have cleaned herself off – she kept dripping syrup onto her lap because she was apparently distracted by the mere sight of Ron across the table from her. Harry vaguely hoped that the two of them (and himself, he supposed) regained their senses in the next few days. They were going to need them. And how.

As they all stood blinking in the sunshine, Fred and George seemed to be observing the other four with beady-eyed amusement.

"Good god, Gred, I really wish we could hang around a bit, don't you?" George shook his head in mock sorrow.

"I don't know Forge, I'm not sure I can take much more of this. My heart is breaking," his twin responded, putting his face into his large hands, his shoulders shaking, seemingly wracked with sobs.

"What are you two on about?" Ron eyed his brothers with distrust. Hermione was turning pink again. Ginny elbowed Harry hard in the side and they grinned at each other.

"It's ok, Gred, it's ok. You'll just have to bury yourself in your work," George put a comforting arm around Fred and shot Ron a nasty look, "This is all your fault, you git. Can't you see how this is eating him up inside?" Ron still looked flabbergasted, but Harry was trying not to laugh. He saw both of the girls were biting the inside of their cheeks as well.

"I really wish I knew what—" Ron was puzzling over this display of unwarranted hostility, when Fred suddenly launched himself towards Hermione, throwing himself at her feet.

"Will, you _stop_, Fred, honestly," Hermione gazed down at the prostrate twin with a mixture of exasperation and hesitant amusement. She shot a glance over at Ron.

"But darling, dear, sweet Hermione," he pawed at her hand, "how can you leave me for another? Especially," he rolled his eyes at Ron, who, Harry noticed, had a thunderous look on his face, "especially for this one over here?!"

"Don't you two have to be at the shop or something?" Ron prodded Fred's prone form with the tip of his shoe.

"Ronnikins is right, Fred, we best be off. All this wedding and love nonsense is fascinating in its own way, but we still have a business to run," George assisted Fred off the ground.

"Alright, alright," Fred whispered, teary-eyed, "remember me, won't you Hermy-poo?" He walked dejectedly back to George, who was waiting for him. Harry burst out laughing. _Hermy-poo. Priceless. _The world would be far too serious a place without the Weasley twins. Now even Ron was smiling reluctantly.

Then, without warning, Fred turned and planted a large, wet kiss smack on Hermione's laughing mouth. Without further ado, he and George Apparated.

Harry and Ginny couldn't contain their mirth, but Hermione stood blinking as if she'd been hit with a Confundus charm, and Ron appeared more than a bit put out.

"Thank god for those two, honestly, where would we all be without a laugh?" Ginny wiped her streaming eyes, echoing Harry's thoughts from a moment ago. "Not a terrible lot to laugh about these days, right, you lot?" She suddenly seemed very serious and looked hard at Harry. "So, are you three going to tell me the whole story about what happened last month, and what you guys are going to do about it, or what?" Ginny shifted her gaze to Ron and Hermione, who were standing close together.

Harry looked over at his best friends. Ron now had his arm resting lightly around Hermione's shoulders. Neither of them said anything. It was Harry's story to tell, or not to tell, as he saw fit.

"So," Ginny stamped her foot, "not a single one of you is going to explain to me why you aren't going back to Hogwarts this upcoming term?"

"What?! How did you know? I mean – what are you talking about?" Damn. Harry was angry at the slip. He looked over Ginny's head at Ron, who shrugged. Hermione, as well, seemed confused.

"Wait a minute," Hermione's eyes narrowed, "Ginny, I thought…you mentioned in your letter – I just assumed Harry had told you!" Hermione seemed upset. So did Ron.

"Yeah, Gin. What was all that about last night? You going on about losing all three of us? How did you – I mean, what is that you think -" Ron cut himself off after a significant glance from Hermione.

Ginny had the good grace to look ashamed, but stood her ground. She glared at the other three. "Ok! Ok! I wasn't – entirely – fair to you guys. But, but, I never actually _lied_ to any of you about what I knew. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something big is about to happen with you three, right? So, I just thought, that if I, well, just let you guys think I knew more than I did, I could figure out what was going on. I'm sorry. But, you have to understand, I know what you all are doing is going to be dangerous, but, well I'm stuck here. I have to, to just, just watch you all go. I shouldn't have done, but I did. I should have just asked what was going on," she looked directly at Harry, and he could tell she was trying mightily to hold back tears. She threw her hands up into the air and walked away from them. She settled herself under the big maple, with her back to them.

Harry was torn. He wanted to tell her so badly, but what about his promise to himself to protect her by letting her go? _But_, he thought, _she deserves to know_. As he stood with Ron and Hermione, he knew there was more to it than that. He saw how close his friends were standing to each other. The peeks they stole when they didn't think the other was paying attention. _I can deal with the two of them in love_, he thought, _but I want it too. I want Ginny._ He suddenly remembered Tonks, clutching Lupin's threadbare robes at Bill's sickbed last month. Friendly, helpful, cheerful Tonks who had been so miserable last year because Lupin had tried to push her away, for her own good, he said. It hadn't succeeded in the end, had it? In the end, love finds a way. Maybe Dumbledore was right, maybe there _was_ powerful magic in loving someone.

"Ron, Hermione," Harry began, "I'm going to tell her. All of it. I – I have to," _Because I love her,_ he thought.

"Well, go on then, Harry," Hermione whispered, and gave him a little push, "Go on, and tell her."

Harry turned from them and headed towards Ginny, who looked up as he approached. The answers were already falling from his lips as he sat down next to her, in the shade of the big maple, on a beautiful August morning, in one of the places he loved best in the whole world. She had asked, out of love, and he answered with the same.


	7. Lessons Learned

Hermione watched Harry stride across the Burrow's backyard and sit down next to Ginny, their heads bent very close together. She herself was aware of two very disparate things at the moment: Ron's hand resting lightly on her back and something that Ginny had shouted at them moments before.

_"—aren't going back to Hogwarts next term?"_

She had known that, of course, in theory. That this was it; as far as she, Ron and Harry were concerned, school was a thing of the past. But, hearing Ginny ask it so baldly like that suddenly made it very real to her. No N.E.W.T.S. exams for her, no graduation at the top of the class, none of it. Everything she'd been working for the past six years, didn't matter anymore. She found herself ridiculously close to tears.

"Hermione?" Ron was looking at her, concerned. "What's – what's wrong?"

"Oh, Ron!" She flung herself at him and he encircled her in his arms. Although she was still upset and the thought of leaving school, she couldn't help but relish in being where she was. She sniffled a bit, then breathed deeper. Yes, she smiled to herself, thinking of that morning last year in Slughorn's classroom, _fresh-cut grass, new parchment, and this. _She looked up at her best friend, who had a mixture of happiness and concern on his face. He leaned down a bit - _He was just SO tall!_ - and her heart jumped a little. His face was very, very close to hers.

"It's just…just that…well, Ginny just made me realize that we're –we're not going back to school. And, well, it just got me thinking, no N.E.W.T.s or graduation or anything –" but Ron had straightened up a bit and was laughing down at her.

"I should have known! Never mind that we're about to take on the most evil wizard of all time and we may never see our families again! What is Hermione Granger worried about? Her N.E.W.T.s! I suppose you figured you'd squeak another 112% out of Flitwick this year, huh?" Wounded, she escaped the circle of his arms and took a few steps away from him.

"Well, Ronald, I know that grades don't concern you nearly as much as they do me, but I would think you'd be a _bit_ upset about it and –" her huffy admonition was abruptly cut off by the presence of his hand on her face. He was smiling at her sweetly, and also, a little nervously.

"N.E.W.T.s!" He shook his head, muttered to himself, "There really isn't anyone quite like you, you know that, don't you Hermione?"

He shuffled his feet a little and moved closer to her. All thoughts of N.E.W.T.s, Hogwarts, and pretty much, well, everything else, left her head. She'd been waiting for this very moment for almost three years now, and she damn well was going to enjoy it. She wondered if his stomach was churning like hers was, or if he could feel her heart beating in her throat under his sweaty palm. His face was inches away from hers and –

"Ron! Ginny! Harry! Can you lot come over here for a mo'?" Mrs. Weasley's voice ran through the back yard. "Hermione, dear, I need your help with this charm…"

Ron stepped hastily away from her. "Bloody hell, mum, grand timing," he said, almost to himself. His ears were scarlet again and he seemed a bit deflated.

Hermione sighed internally. Well, she had waited three years, she supposed she could wait a bit longer. She looked over at the stout, loveable form of Mrs. Weasley, who was standing on the Burrow's back porch, a frown of concentration creasing her face, surrounded by wisps of dancing, floating white and silver ribbon, clouds of tulle and the fairy lanterns Hermione had noticed tied to the kitchen rafters earlier in the morning.

"Of course Mrs. Weasley! I'll be right over!" Harry and Ginny, Hermione saw, were emerging from under the shade of the big maple. Ginny was flushed and Hermione noted with a grin, she was grasping Harry's hand tightly. As she watched, they smirked at each other and broke into a run to assist Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum! I'm not sure doing the decorating ourselves was such a great idea…" Ginny laughed as the bewitched ribbons started winding themselves around Harry, binding him to the porch's railing. Hermione smiled and looked over at Ron.

"Well, Ronald, I suppose we better go help your mum," she nudged him. He had his hands crossed over his chest sulkily.

"Right, I suppose so," he grumbled. Hermione impulsively stepped over to him and put her hand in his.

"You know, Ron, there's more than one chance for everything – well most things, at least," she finished. "You just need to pay attention to these opportunities when they arise." She let go of his hand and started walking towards the porch. The ribbons, she could see, were turning out to be dangerous, if not outright murderous. They needed her help. She heard Ron muttering to himself and clearing his throat behind her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?" She turned around to face him.

"About what you just said? All that mad stuff about opportunities and such?" She waited. "Well, I was just thinking, Bill and Fleur's wedding? Will you go?"

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm going! I'm here, Ron, aren't I?" As much as she adored him, there were times where he made very little sense to her.

"No, erm, that's not exactly what I meant. I was just thinking, well, you always said, I mean, this is last minute and all, but certainly not as a last resort, or anything –" Hermione briefly thought of saving him from himself, but then let him flounder on, "I guess, what I am trying to say, is will you, erm, accompany me, as my guest, to Bill's wedding? I mean I know you are already going, as you pointed out, but I was specifically wondering –" this was getting a bit painful to witness. Hermione put him out of his misery.

She walked swiftly back to him and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It was gratifying to know she wasn't the only one who'd learned something in the past few years.

"Yes, please," she whispered into his ear. Then she set across the lawn towards where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were beckoning her. She'd help them as best as she knew how, but Hermione knew that, charms, bewitched decorations, and fairy lights aside, this was going to be one magical wedding.


	8. An Empty Stomach and Open Hearts

_Something very, very odd is going on,_ Ron thought. He stood at the back door of the Burrow, gazing out at yesterday's handiwork. His mum was a real task-master; he, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had hardly stopped hanging, tying, carrying and bewitching things all day before collapsing, exhausted, into their respective beds last night.

He had to admit, though, the backyard looked pretty amazing. The fairy lanterns had been scattered throughout the trees, twinkling in various hues of purple, pink, gold and green. Hermione (he thought proudly) had adjusted the charm his mum had placed on the aggressive silver and white ribbon, and now it was contentedly twined up and down several bunted pavilions, twirling benignly in the evening breeze.

Though the wedding wasn't until tomorrow evening, two large tables weighted down with numerous delicious-smelling dishes dominated the back yard. The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Fleur's family and several members of the Order of the Phoenix were currently congregated in the very over-stuffed Burrow, momentarily to step outside to enjoy this "night before" feast.

_The odd thing,_ Ron thought again, _the odd thing is, I'm not a bit hungry._ His stomach, of which he was always acutely aware, seemed to be floating somewhere roughly three feet above his head. He couldn't account for it, but then again, he'd spent most of his time since yesterday morning thinking about that brief kiss Hermione had planted on the corner of his mouth. _Not a REAL kiss, but still, _he thought, and smiled a bit. _Well, I did try, but bloody mum and all of her ribbons and such._

There had been exactly zero opportunities to get Hermione on her own in the past twenty-four hours. It was enough to drive a bloke mad. And he couldn't get that chaste, swift kiss out of his head. What was wrong with him? Hadn't he spent most of last term writhing around in the common room with Lavender? It wasn't as if, as Ginny had so publicly pointed out to him last year, he'd never snogged a girl before. He felt as if he'd thoroughly covered that ground by dating Lavender. Had been the whole point, really. But this rolling, floating stomach was a whole new sensation. He'd probably get as much pleasure out of dinner tonight as Nearly Headless Nick would, if he were here.

The approaching sound of voices made him turn. Everyone was spilling out of the house into the backyard, chatting and laughing happily. Bill led the way, his arm around Fleur's waist. Over the past few weeks, Ron had gotten used to the three slash-shaped scars that twisted the left side of his brother's face into a scowl. Behind the happy couple, his mum was explaining her decorating scheme in detail to Fleur's mother. His mum's soft, round, red-headed figure walking alongside Mrs. Delacour's tall, willowy one, made Ron smile. Harry, who had Ginny's hand ensconced firmly in his own, was turned towards Lupin on his other side, gesturing forcefully as they discussed some practical defensive strategies. He clapped Ron on the shoulder as he walked by. And then, Hermione. She was walking closely with Tonks, who appeared to have made an effort to match the wedding decorations - her hair was in two long silvery plaits, threaded throughout with shots of pearly white. Tonks caught Ron staring at them and smiled at him.

"Wotcher, Ron?" She gave him a hug and went down the stairs, catching up to Lupin, Harry and Ginny.

"Hi," Hermione put her hand on his arm. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

"Oh, yeah, well it was getting a little crazy in there," he said to her, indicating the steady stream of dinner guests filing into the backyard. She looked radiant, her brown eyes darting keenly from the guests to the glittering pavilions. His stomach seemed to float even higher up. Soon it'd be nesting in the trees with the fairy lights.

"It really looks lovely out here, doesn't it?" She spun around as Ginny and Harry waved them over to their table, where they sat near Tonks, Lupin and Hagrid.

"_You_ look lovely," he said it before he could think about it. And it was true. Hermione looked like, well, Hermione, but it was almost as if, for the past several years, a bunch of filmy layers had been slowly falling away from his eyes when he looked at her. It was as if, in actuality, she had always been this brilliant, glowing person, but his eyes had been too dulled to notice it before. And then, almost imperceptibly, he had begun to notice this glow, low and faint at first, and getting steadily brighter until could no longer ignore its existence.

"I'm going to have to get used to comments like that, Ronald Weasley," she shook her head, smiling. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you." She took a seat on the bench across from Tonks.

"Well, I could say something terribly insensitive and git-like if it'd make you more comfortable?" He tried to sound serious. She smacked his arm lightly and turned to talk to Hagrid.

The dinner passed pleasantly and leisurely, people from each table mixing back and forth, calling and catcalling, eating Mrs. Weasley's wonderful food with gusto. Ron stared mournfully at his plate. He couldn't seem to focus on food a bit. It was this extraordinary girl sitting beside him - teasing Ginny and Harry, speaking earnestly to Lupin and Tonks about magical non-humans, and asking Hagrid probing questions about Grawp - that was doing it to him. _So this is what happens when you fall in love,_ he thought sadly, eyeing his uneaten mashed potatoes, _when you fall in love, you lose food. Good-bye lamb chops and steak and kidney pie and roast chicken and -_

His mental farewell to food was suddenly interrupted by the clinking of forks on china. He looked up. Everyone was turned to the form of his smiling father, standing between the two tables. His dad was holding a glass of champagne, and on cue, several dozen glasses floated out of the deepening twilight and drifted towards each dinner guest. Hermione plucked two out of the air, turned, handed one to Ron, and then leaned comfortably against him. He slung his free arm around her shoulder.

"On behalf of Molly and myself, I'd like to thank you all for being here this evening," his dad began. His mum was gazing fondly at him. "As you know, we are all here this weekend to celebrate the marriage of my eldest, Bill, to this strong, lovely young woman," he beamed at the two of them. "As I stand here, looking out at you all, my heart is so full I can hardly speak. There's nothing, nothing, as important as family. And everyone here, Weasley or not, is my family. Some of you sitting here are as dear to me as my own children." Ron saw his dad's eyes flicker and land on Hermione, and then hold steady on Harry for a moment. "Others of you, began as colleagues, schoolmates, friends - but are still something more because of the strong ties of love that bind us together." His father paused, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Ron struggled with the lump in his own throat. Hermione sniffled a bit in front of him; he hugged her tighter. He saw that Harry was sitting with his hands on his face; Ginny's hand rested on his hair. His dad reached out and grabbed his mum's hand, seemed to draw strength from it to continue. "Not everyone that should be is here tonight. Over the past several years, we all have lost many of those we hold dear to the evil that we are even now fighting. Some we have lost in the most real sense, others we have lost because they have turned away from the truth of what's happening. I say this not to inject sadness into this happy event, but to tell you all how very proud I am to be here, with you all, in the midst of turmoil. To tell you all how very much you mean to me. And now, without further ado, to the bride and groom!" He raised his glass high and pulled Bill into a rough hug.

"To the bride and groom!" Ron echoed with everyone, surreptitiously wiping his cheeks dry. Hermione turned to him and clinked her glass on his, tenderly whisking away a stray tear from his cheek.

"You missed a spot," she said, her own face a bit blotchy.

Everyone around them was hugging and kissing Bill and Fleur, laughing and wiping tears from their eyes. Suddenly, from the side hedge, there was the distinct sound of someone Apparating. Two dozen heads turned in the direction. And, Ron noticed, several wands had appeared, most notably, Harry's and Lupin's. Height had its advantages; Ron had a clear view of the strangely familiar figure walking cautiously from around the side of the house. Hermione, he noticed, was standing on the bench so as to get a better look. She gasped.

"Ron! Oh my god, Ron! That's -" before she could finish, the figure spoke.

"Well everyone, I know it's the dead of summer, but are Weasley sweaters required attire for this wedding?" Ron couldn't believe it. Though the voice was sheepish and hesitant and lacking its usual pompous tone, he'd recognize it anywhere.

"Percy!" His mum cried joyfully, and rushed forward to greet him


	9. Percy, Penitent?

Harry stood amidst all of the other dinner guests, as surprised as the rest of them. Percy was here, at the Burrow. Wonders would never cease, it seemed. Ginny was clutching his shoulder tightly.

"I _cannot_ believe he showed up! Mum never received a reply to his invitation. None of us have seen him since...since Dumbledore's funeral. And he hardly said a word to any of us there," Ginny explained breathlessly. Harry examined her face, but couldn't tell how she felt yet about the reappearance of her third-eldest brother.

"Ron!" She whispered across the table. She reached out and tugged his shirt, and he spun around, his mouth open in an 'O' of shock. "Ron, we'd better, you know -" Ginny gestured to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Bill and Fleur had gathered around Percy. Fred and George, Harry noticed, were hanging back from the group a bit, talking urgently to each other and shooting distrustful glances at Percy.

"Yeah, I suppose we'd better. What d'you reckon, Gin? Why's he here, after all this time?" Ron questioned his sister as he assisted Hermione off the bench. Harry caught Hermione's eye. She was the brightest one of all of them; if anyone had insight onto this sudden arrival, it'd be her. Her brow was furrowed and she shook her head minutely at Harry, which he took as a sign to keep his mouth shut for the moment. With a backwards glance at them, Ron and Ginny made their way over to the small family circle as the other guests sat themselves back down at the tables. Harry and Hermione did as well, along with Tonks, Lupin and Hagrid. Harry watched as Ron and Ginny approached their older brother. Ron and Percy shook hands awkwardly, but Percy engulfed his little sister in a hug, which she immediately returned. _That's one of the best things about Ginny,_ Harry smiled, _she makes people feel comfortable._

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Hagrid was dabbing his still-streaming eyes with the edge of the table cloth. Several dishes tumbled onto the ground. "Oh, sorry 'bout that - thanks Hermione," he continued, as Hermione waved her wand and settled the dishes down in a more central, and therefore safer, location on the table. "I was just sayin' to Grawp t'other day, there's nothin' more important than family..." He trailed off, red-eyed, and Hermione hastily handed him her dinner napkin.

"I'm glad Percy came," a thoughtful voice spoke from Harry's left. Lupin was gazing over at the Weasleys. "This must've been a tough decision for him. It's never easy to admit to the people who love you that you were wrong," he turned to Tonks with a playfully raised eyebrow. She chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

"As many terrible things that have happened over the past year," Tonks began in a voice much softer than usual, "as bad as it has been - I think some good comes out of it. People realize what's actually important. It's like Arthur said, there's nothing like family."

"Well, everyone!" Mr. Weasley's happy voice rang out, "As you can see, we have another, much-welcomed guest! Now that Percy is here, the family circle is complete." Mr. Weasley put his hand on Percy's shoulder, swallowing hard. Everyone clapped and whistled, but Harry noticed the twins had wandered into the relative dimness of one of the pavilions, seating themselves at a round table where wedding guests would dine the next evening. Hermione was looking that way as well, and jerked her head slightly in that direction. They both excused themselves and crossed the lawn together.

"What's up?" Harry asked her once they were out of earshot of everyone.

Hermione seemed to weigh her words carefully before she spoke. "I don't know, Harry. I hate to think anything but the best of all this, but -"

"But, you're a bit suspicious?" Harry finished for her.

"Well, the last time Percy showed up at the Burrow, it was for ulterior motives. He came because Scrimgeour wanted a closer look at you," she sighed, continued, "part of me, the nicer part of me, wants to agree with Tonks and Hagrid. Even Lupin seems to think it's a positive sign," she stopped walking for a moment, "But, you know Harry, Percy's not my favorite person at this moment. He hasn't treated you or Ron very well the past few years. And the way he's acted towards his parents..." she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders, "You and Ron don't seem too put out, so I'll try to reserve judgment for now. Maybe I'm just not as forgiving a person as you are. Doesn't seem Fred and George are either."

As they resumed walking towards the twins, Harry thought about what Hermione had said. _She has a point,_ he mused, _but maybe I've just gotten so used to people's ever-changing-opinions of me, I'm immune to inappropriate behavior._ One thing he and Hermione were in agreement on, however, was how Percy had treated his family. Harry couldn't think of very many people he liked more than the Weasleys, and he understood better than most people how amazing it was to be welcomed into this crazy, messy, loving mass of family. Percy hadn't been treating that with as much respect as he should've.

"Harry, Hermione, come join us," George was waving them over.

"What do the two of you make of our extra-secret surprise special guest?" Fred asked with a decidedly sour look on his face. "Hermione, my love, I can tell _your_ sentiments are very near to mine."

"Less of the 'my love' natter, Fred," Hermione admonished. Harry saw that Ron and Ginny were headed towards them. "I have no opinion on the subject." Both Fred and George snorted incredulously at this statement. "No, really you two, this is your family, he's your brother, you'll have to sort it out amongst yourselves."

"Well that was fairly odd," Ron said as he and Ginny joined the group. "Mum's in quite a tizzy right about now."

"Mum'd think the best of anyone, even that insensitive prat," George's eyes shot daggers at Percy's back.

"Well," Ginny began, "He does seem pretty embarrassed. And he did show up for the wedding. That counts for something, right?" She looked at her three brothers in turn, hoping for affirmation.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and she smiled at him gratefully. He glanced over at Hermione. He felt uncomfortable, an intruder on a family discussion. He could tell she was thinking along the same lines as he was. "Listen guys, Hermione and I will leave you four to thrash this out..." Harry began, but his voice was drowned by the protesting voices of the Weasleys. The group got quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. There was the nervous sound of someone clearing his throat behind Harry. They all turned. Percy was standing there, red-faced.

"Hermione, Harry, hello, how are you?" Percy held out his hand. He looked so uncomfortable Harry didn't have it in himself to do anything but offer his own. He heard the twins scoff behind him. Hermione, who was standing back a bit, muttered a polite greeting.

"C'mon, Fred, I could use another butterbeer," George grumbled. And with another fiery glance at Percy, the twins slouched off towards the rest of the guests.

The five of them shuffled in the uncomfortable silence than followed. Harry opened his mouth a few times to start the conversation back up, but closed it again in defeat. He couldn't think of one single appropriate topic.

"So, uh, Harry, I actually was wondering if I could speak with you," Percy finally said. Harry started. Percy wanted to talk to him? "In private, actually."

"No, Percy. Anything you'd like to say, you can say in front of Ginny, Ron and Hermione," Harry felt a little sorry for him, and more so for Ron and Ginny, but he wasn't about to let Percy call the shots.

Percy sighed. "Alright. Look. As I've said to about a dozen people already this evening, I've acted – I mean my actions the past few years has been – I behaved, well, sort of –"

"Like a prat?" Ron offered helpfully. Hermione elbowed him but the whole group chuckled and most of the tension left the circle.

"Yes, well, Ron, I suppose you're right, and now I have a chance to make amends, so I'm going to try," Percy sighed. He looked at the others and took a deep breath. "Harry, I have it on good authority that the Ministry of Magic is having you followed. Anything you're doing – or planning on doing, erm, in the near future – I would take this into consideration. _You are being watched."_ Percy finished in a hissing whisper. Harry was dumbfounded. How was this possible? Was Percy insinuating that he knew about his, Ron's and Hermione's plans after the wedding? There was no way he could know that they were going –

"Listen, you lot. I know I have no right to expect you to believe me, but, please, you simply cannot go to Godric's Hollow next week!" And with that, he spun and walked away, leaving the other four in stunned silence.


	10. Something Old, Something New

**A/N: All intrigue is put on hold for the next three chapters as we celebrate l'amour! Watch your favorite couple-that-loves-to-argue finally share a moment of sweet silence...**

**~CeeCee**

Saturday dawned sunny and mild. The pavilions in the Burrow's backyard were blanketed in a shimmering layer of dew and mist. Birds twittered sleepily in the trees, and the wind tickled the flowers that bedecked the back porch and tables. Across the green expanse of the lawn, the small, furry figure of Crookshanks stalked an unsuspecting squirrel. The Burrow itself, usually a hotbed of activity, was still drowsing peacefully, preparing itself for the big day. Well, except for –

"You know, Ginny, I think we may regret getting up so early later on today," Hermione whispered as they snuck down the stairs and into the peaceful kitchen.

"Oh, Hermione, do you always have to be so damn practical?!" Ginny whispered back as she prepared enormous mugs of tea. "Besides, trust me on this – the next half hour will be the only time today you'll be able to hear yourself think. Plus, you can use this time to reflect on how sorry you are for me that I have to do every single thing Phlegm tells me to do for the next twelve hours. I really ought to give you my wand for safe keeping so I don't hex her into oblivion."

They made their way outside and settled on the porch swing. Hermione tucked her feet underneath her and sipped her tea. Ginny was right, this was relaxing, especially taking into consideration the previous evening. Hermione still wasn't sure what was more perplexing – Percy's sudden return home or Ron's sudden gallantry.

"So…" Ginny began, "Percy? Any thoughts from the cleverest witch of our generation?" She intoned, doing a very good Rita Skeeter impersonation, sucking on an imaginary quill.

"No, not yet," Hermione replied, chewing her lip, "And, I think we should make a solemn gentle-witches' pact to dispense with any and all Percy-related or serious conversations of any type until _after_ this evening." She paused, continued, "So! What are we going to do with your hair?! Even better, what are we going to do with mine?" But as Ginny laughed and jokingly shook her hand, Hermione's mind was still troubled.

oooooOOOOOOOooooo

_I suppose it looks alright, _Hermione thought as she spun around in front of Ginny's mirror. She never felt quite herself when she got dressed up, and her violet-colored dress was very simple. Dressing formally didn't really suit her. _Not like Fleur,_ she thought as she turned around to look at the bride.

Fleur was breath-taking. Her shimmering hair was gathered on her head in hundreds of perfect ringlets, topped with the crown of her veil. _She looks almost like royalty,_ Hermione thought admiringly, if a touch jealously, as Fleur stood by the window in the late afternoon sun, her ivory gown sweeping elegantly to the floor in a fan of satin.

_Ginny looks terrific too,_ she thought, smiling at her friend, who, with the help of Gabrielle Delacour, was adjusting the bustle on Fleur's gown. Her fiery hair was mostly down, hanging in a red waterfall down her back. In the front and on the sides, Hermione had woven several ribbons into the braids coiled away from her face, which matched Ginny's golden bridesmaid's dress.

"'Ermione, I just wanted to zank you so much for your azistence today," Fleur beamed at her.

"Yeah, Hermione, zanks so much," Ginny muttered as she magicked several pins into the back of Fleur's gown. Hermione stifled a giggle and shot Ginny a warning look. Ginny stuck her tongue out, unnoticed by either of the Delacours, and Hermione shook her head.

"Your hair looks very preety," Fleur gesturing at Hermione, "Zat is a very clever charm. You will be doing zo well at 'Ogwarts zis year, no doubt!" At this, Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances again, but she tried to push the worry out of her mind. Instead, she turned back to the mirror to confirm Fleur's compliment. Hermione had decided to embrace her hair's, well, insanity, and left it down. She had performed a nifty little spell, and thousands of violet, silver and white rhinestones glittered amidst the brown sea of waves and curls.

"Well, Ginny, Gabrielle, we'd better 'ead down. I see Mama waving at us!" Fleur marched regally from the room, her bridesmaids trailing (in Ginny's case, reluctantly) behind her.

Hermione wandered over to the window and gazed down at the yard. Harry would be arriving momentarily to escort her to her seat, as each of their dates was a member of the wedding party. _Date!_ Hermione chuckled, _Ron Weasley is my date!_ Her eyes roamed over the crowd of well-dressed guests, and she spotted several people she knew that hadn't been at dinner last night – Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry, and Angelina Johnson, who appeared to be Fred's date – before she finally found him. Ron.

He was by the front of where the guests were seating themselves, horsing around with Charlie, who was also standing for Bill. She couldn't help but cluck to herself he was wrinkling his dress robes that way. Bill was looking a bit green, and Mr. Weasley was adjusting his tie for him soothingly. Ron stopped goofing off and squared his shoulders. He did look handsome, that was certain. But not exactly like the Ron Weasley she knew, either. There seemed to be a new person emerging from the boy she'd known, not completely changed, but not entirely the same either. She supposed she had changed a bit herself. _Something old, something new…_she thought ruefully, and smiled to herself. There was a creak as the door opened behind her.

"Wow! Nice hair!" Harry was standing in the doorway, looking pretty spiffy himself. He proffered his arm to her.

"Thanks," she replied, linking her arm in his, "But wait'll you see Ginny's."

oooooOOOOOOOooooo

The wedding ceremony passed in a fuzzy warm blur for Hermione. The only two things that really stood out in her head were Harry's gasp beside her when Ginny marched down the aisle, and the fact that Ron, who was standing in front of his entire family and guests, hadn't taken his eyes off her the entire time.

Hermione mingled with the other guests as the bride, groom, wedding party and their families got formal photos taken. She waved and smiled at her classmates, friends and teachers as she made her way over to a quiet bench off to the side of the main action. She was very content, sitting and observing the guests laughing and chatting happily, everyone looking like ethereal, otherworldly versions of their normal selves. Lupin looking younger than ever in his simple dress robes, and was that _Tonks_ in a flowing silver party dress?! Even McGonagall looked less severe than usual. She was jolted out of her bemusement by the sound of someone approaching. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Ron.

"Hey, I found you," he shuffled his feet, sat down next to her. His knee was touching her and he was staring at her. Then he said something decidedly odd. "I may never be able to eat again." He shook his head, as if to clear it.

She was extraordinarily confused. "Were you looking for dinner or for me?"

"Oh, well, erm, you know, I was looking for you, not dinner, I haven't had much of an appetite recently," he finished lamely. This was so out of character Hermione was at a loss. Thankfully Ron continued. "Not that you were particularly hard to find." He gestured to her hair.

"Rhinestones an improvement on pancakes, I hope?" What she _really_ hoped was this was how you flirted with your best-friend-turned-guy-you-fancied.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I'm glad you left it down. You look more like yourself that way," he concluded. Oh, god, if either one of them got any more nervous, they might spontaneously combust. He sidled a bit closer to her on the bench, and her stomach went warm and tingly. "You know, I was just thinking about trolls."

Her stomach cooled a bit in confusion. "Ron, it's official. I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Well," he began, and put his hand under her hair, touching her neck, "Well, I was just thinking, that if Harry and I hadn't saved you from that mountain troll first year, I may, to this day, just think of you, as, well…"

"An insufferable know-it-all?" She offered, her voice sounding nothing like her own, sort of breathy and small. He nodded. "But I _am_ an insufferable know-it-all." Nothing mattered except his hand on her neck, his blue eyes inches from her own.

"Yes, yes you are," he laughed, putting his other hand on her cheek. "But, you're _my_ insufferable-know-it-all, Hermione Granger." And then he was kissing her, and Hermione's world was just his lips, his breath, and the feeling of his heart beating against hers.


	11. Something Borrowed, Something Blue

**A/N: How did Ron pluck up the courage from the last chapter, you ask? Well, with a little help from Fred and George, of course! Backing up the action to take a look at the last scene from Ron's perspective (something I really love to do in my romance FF). ~CeeCee**

_If they take one more picture,_ Ron fumed silently, _just one more, I'm going jinx every single one of them. _Ron plastered a smile on his face for the four thousandth time as Charlie joggled him on the left and his Grannie Weasley clutched his arm for dear life on the right. _I hate ginger-haired people, _he thought grumpily, surrounded by relatives on all sides. He shoved Charlie extra hard to vent his frustration.

"Hey, Ron, watch it, mate!" Charlie cried, amiably enough, and pushed him back, nearly sending him into a nosedive on top of Ginny and Gabrielle.

"Ron! Cut it out, will you?" Ginny turned and scowled at him. "This isn't a joke! Let's just _do_ this before I commit murder, alright?"

"Yes, honestly, Ronnikins, what's your problem?" George piped up from behind him, in his left ear.

"He's in luurrrrvvve, Georgie, can't you tell? He's practically floating!" Fred giggled into his right ear. And, as the twins snickered, Ron's feet left the ground and he actually _did_ begin to float, first a few inches off the ground, then nearly a foot, now three, then –

"Fred! George! You gits! Get me down! Let me-" As he struggled to find his wand, the tip of his dress shoe knocked Fleur smack in the middle of her elaborate hairdo. She turned to Ron and he almost fell out of the air in fear.

"Ronald! What eez zee meaning of zees? We are trying to take a beautiful picture here, zees is not the time for – how do you say – messing about!" She stomped her foot, and with a graceful wave of her wand, Ron tumbled out of the air, taking the twins, his Grannie Weasley and Ginny with him to the ground.

"Ron!" Several dozen people yelped at him. He helped his grandmother to her feet, as the twins clutched each other in hysterics and the expression on Ginny's flushed face fluctuated between anger and amusement.

"Bloody relatives," Ron muttered quietly, ignoring everyone's indignant shouts. But he couldn't help grinning a bit as his crazy, loud, shoving, cackling family gathered back together for one more photo of the happy event.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

The minute the family group dispersed throughout the yard, Ron eyes began roaming the reception, hoping to catch sight of a particularly impressive cloud of brown hair and a certain light purple dress. He wandered through the well-dressed crowd, getting a bit frustrated. _Where IS she? This is starting to get ridiculous –_

"Whatcha lookin' for, Ronnie?" George, on his right.

"I think the question is _who_ is he looking for, George old chap, right, Ronald?" Fred, on his left. Ron felt his ears begin to boil scarlet. "Wouldn't be, let's say, a bright, bossy, bushy-haired bird we all know and love, would it?"

"Well asked, Fred," George said, impressed.

"Cheers, George!" Fred smiled at his twin. "So, Ronald darling, what's your plan of attack, hmmm?" The twins had now surrounded him, their arms slung genially around his shoulders.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked glumly, not even bothering to deny he was looking for Hermione.

"Well, son, have you snogged her yet?" George queried. "That's a good place to start, if you don't mind me saying so."

"What?! I mean, well, the thing is –" Ron stammered, and he could feel his face flushing.

"I agree with George, dear brother…a kiss is as good a place to start as any, and this has been going on for far too long, if you ask me," Fred thumped him hard on the back.

"You know, you really aren't helping, you two, and if you want the truth, I tried the other day, but bloody mum interrupted with all of her wedding-decorating nonsense," Ron trailed off, throwing his hands into the air. He still hadn't found her, either…

"Ok, here's what you do," George took him by the shoulders, and for once, he seemed earnest. "Just go over to her. Don't mull it over, or think too hard about it, just –

"—compliment her, say something about her hair or her dress or something –" Fred interjected.

"Yes! That's it! Try to say something funny or remind her of something from the past that you shared that was special—" George continued seamlessly.

"Right! Right! That's the ticket, then you just take her face in your hands and, if I really have to explain to you what happens next, well, mate, you really are a bit thick and I don't –"

"STOP! Will you two give it a rest?!" Ron shouted. "Look, I know you are just trying to help, but if I could just find her, I could take it from there, alright?"

His brothers glanced at each other and shrugged. "Why didn't you just say so, Ron?" George began.

"She's right over there!" They chimed together, and Ron followed their pointing fingers to the sight of her, Hermione, sitting on a bench away from the crowd, her violet dress and glittering hair sparkling in the darkening twilight.

"Go on then, man!" George encouraged.

"Yeah, Ron, feel free to borrow the 'Weasley Twins' Yet-To-Fail Plan of Wooing the Woman You Want' – hey, I really like the sound of that George, you know we could –" and with a final thump on the back, Fred and George ambled away from him, talking excitedly.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Once he spotted her, he hurried through the celebrating throng to reach the spot where she sat, gazing dreamily at the wedding reception. Then, for some reason, he slowed down. He took a moment just to look at her unawares. For about the hundredth time in the last few months, Ron thought again of how different she seemed to him now, and yet still so much like the Hermione he'd always known. She looked over as he approached, and he saw both of those people – the girl who'd admonished him and corrected his homework dozens of times and this new, shining amazing person. She was smiling at him expectantly.

"Hey, I found you," he couldn't think of anything else to say. He walked over and sat down next to her, his trousered leg pressing against her bare knee. It was really unbelievable how nervous someone he'd known for six years could make him. His stomach was rolling crazily "I may never be able to eat again." He lamented, staring at her confused face.

"Were you looking for dinner or for me?" She said huffily, and suddenly she was the old Hermione again, which gave him the bravery to continue.

"Oh, well, erm, you know, I was looking for you, not dinner, I haven't had much of an appetite recently," he stammered. _God._ He just, as his brothers noted, had to go for it. _Say something nice to her…compliment her dress or her hair,_ he mentally reviewed Fred's advice, then spoke "Not that you were particularly hard to find." He smiled at the wonderful cloud of sparkling brown hair.

"Rhinestones an improvement on pancakes, I hope?" She replied, and if he wasn't mistaken, she seemed to be, well, _flirting_ with him…

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I'm glad you left it down. You look more like yourself that way," he said truthfully. _Not like she did at the Yule Ball a few years ago. She looked like a stranger! You walked right past her, remember? You didn't even know it was her. _The girl in front of him now seemed to be a combination of that pretty stranger and the bossy first-year who'd told him he had dirt on his nose. He grinned, suddenly remembering something. For all the scrapes _she'd_ gotten him out of, there was a time where _he'd_ saved her hide. And it made him a bit braver. He moved closer to her on the bench. "You know, I was just thinking about trolls."

"Ron, it's official. I have no idea what you are talking about." This was such a Hermione-ish thing to say, he couldn't contain himself. He wanted, no needed, to touch that crazy head of hair. He plunged his hand into it, resting on the back of her neck. She made a small sound.

"Well," he said, knowing the moment had come at last, "Well, I was just thinking, that if Harry and I hadn't saved you from that mountain troll first year, I may, to this day, just think of you, as, well…" he trailed off. He couldn't imagine not knowing her, or loving her the way he did right now.

"An insufferable know-it-all?" She interjected, most decidedly not sounding like herself, her voice very small and sort of breathless. He brown eyes seemed to fill her face, and he could see a tiny freckle high on one cheekbone. "But I _am_ an insufferable know-it-all." He chuckled. It really was true, but he realized he didn't want her any other way.

"Yes, yes you are," he whispered, surrounded by the dizzying, sweet scent of all those wonderful brown curls, he put his other hand on her face, stroked the freckle he had just noticed. "But, you're _my_ insufferable-know-it-all, Hermione Granger." What a relief, a pleasure, to say it at last, and then he kissed her, and Ron honestly didn't care if his mum needed something, if the twins were snickering across the lawn, or if the entire family was gather around them. All that matter was her.


	12. And a Sickle in Her Shoe

**A/N: How did Harry enjoy Bill and Fleur's wedding? Here's your chance to find out!**

There was no conclusive way to prove it, but Harry was pretty sure that this was one of the best days of his life. At least, that he could remember. He liked to think that maybe, before his parents had been killed, he had a few days like this in his babyhood. A day that glowed with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within him and was magical in a way that had nothing to do wands or spells. A day when he felt loved, and safe, and nearly exploding with good feeling. And he knew why. The biggest reason had her flushed cheek resting on his shoulder, her hair cascading over the back of his dress robes, as they revolved dreamily around the dance floor.

"Ginny?"

"Hmmm?" A sweet sigh. She didn't move.

"Thanks," he started. He wasn't sure how, exactly, to convey the sense of gratitude he felt towards the wonderful, funny, stubborn, strong young woman in his arms. The girl who hadn't given up on him, really, ever. From the time he was an overwhelmed eleven-year-old trying to cope with the fact that he was a wizard and she was just some red-haired little sister of Ron Weasley's. He tried to think back to the time when she was almost invisible to him, when her existence had hardly registered to him at all. He couldn't do it. Now, the minute he entered a room or a group of people, it was her face he sought out, her smile, her laugh.

"My pleasure," she picked her head up, shook her hair away from her face, and smiled at him. "Whatever I can do to help."

"You don't even know what I'm thanking you for!" Harry chuckled at her, kissed her near her left ear, breathing in the flowery smell of her hair. Her arms tightened around his neck.

"Sure I do," she replied, "You mean, _'Thanks, Ginny, for getting it through my brave but terribly thick skull that I could never get rid of you with some ridiculously noble speech about keeping you safe, when really, no one is safe because there an evil lunatic wizard loose on the world'_ right?"

She really was something else. He burst out laughing, "Right, something very close to that. What have you been doing this summer, practicing Legilemency?" He teased.

"Well, actually not, I just really – oh! My, my, my," she interrupted herself, a satisfied smirk on her face. She was looking at a spot away from the dance floor, over his shoulder.

"What?" He asked. She grabbed his chin and turned it in the direction she was gazing. He suddenly got a very odd sensation in his stomach. There, partially screened by the deepening shadows on the side of the pavilions, Ron and Hermione were sitting very close on a bench. Snogging. How…_weird_. How…totally expected.

"Oh, Harry! The look on your face is priceless. You alright with all that?" She gestured towards his best friends, continued, "Ron seemed to have polished his technique a little in the past few months," she noted critically.

Harry mulled it over a bit, tearing his eyes away from the pair of them. It was certainly going to take some getting used to, but for the most part, he felt pretty good about it. I mean really, was it so terrible that two of the people he cared the most about in world fancied each other?

"Poor Harry!" Ginny clucked teasingly.

Her voice drew him out of his reverie. He grinned at her. "It's fine, just a little, erm, bizarre. They've spent a lot of time over the past few years at each other's throats, you know?"

"Well, it looks like they still are," Ginny replied saucily, "Though, I guess you'd call 'at each other's necks' in this context, I suppose."

Harry thought about the look on his friends' faces if they could hear Ginny talking about them like this. Another burst of laughter escaped him. "I'm happy for them, really." And he meant it. How could he resent Ron and Hermione for wanting the same thing he did? Someone to love and understand him? Which, thank goodness, he had.

"I guess I can deal with it," he began in a mock-sorrowful tone, trying to hide a grin, "I mean, I suppose I can get used to _that_ –" he gestured towards the pair of them, " –if Ron, and, geesh, I guess the rest of all those endless brothers of yours, can get used to _this_," and he pulled her close and kissed her soundly, right there on the dance floor. It was a wedding after all, wasn't it?

Ginny didn't seem the least bit abashed by this very public display of affection, even after their kiss received a whooping round of applause from Fred and Angelina, who were dancing nearby. The slow, smoochy song they had been dancing to ended, and a much faster-paced one began. Harry was loath to let go of her in order to dance, and so he led her to one of the tables, where he could keep her close. He stared at her profile as she watched the people spinning and twirling on the dance floor. The corner of her mouth crept upward, and she eyed him without turning her head.

"What?"

"You're the mind reader, right? What am I thinking about right now?" Harry ran his fingers lightly over the elaborate burnished braids at the crown of her head.

"You're…you're thinking, I'm the Sickle in your shoe," she began, turning to him, brushing his obstinate hair off his forehead.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know," her eyes were sparkling, "that old saying, about what a new bride needs for a successful marriage, what she has to have with her on her wedding day." She cleared her throat and recited, "'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue – and a Sickle in her shoe!'" Harry remembered the Muggle version of this little rhyme, which was pretty near what Ginny had just said, but not what the meaning behind the odd little phrase was.

"Ginny, are you trying to get me into a wedding dress?" He joked.

"No!" She slapped him, and he caught her hand, kissed it, held it. "No. I don't really remember what the other things stand for, but the reason a witch tucks a Sickle in her shoe on her wedding day is, not only to bring her prosperity, but for luck. So long as she can feel it there, in the tip of her shoe, nothing can go wrong for her on her special day." Ginny smiled at him proudly.

"Well, Ginny Weasley, if that's the case, than you certainly are the Sickle in my shoe," he whispered in her ear. "Because I couldn't feel luckier than I do right now, sitting here with you." He meant it, and kissed her smiling mouth. Had he really thought there was any reason to deny himself this happiness?

"Oi! What's all this?! Can't you two ever snog in _private_?!" A very familiar voice, close by. Harry looked up to find Ron and Hermione standing over them.

"Ron, is that you? It sounds like you but I can't be sure since my eyes popped out of my head and rolled away after what I saw happening a few minutes ago on that bench over yonder," Harry replied, and Ron chuckled sheepishly. Hermione was flushed and dreamy-eyed, and not very like herself. But they both also looked a bit nervous and unsure, waiting to see what else he was going to say.

Ginny stepped softly but firmly on his foot, and he took this as a sign to continue. He laughed a bit, then said, "Took you two long enough, huh?!" Ron and Hermione grinned at each other, laughed, and then looked back at Harry.

"Aaaahhhh, romance!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping up and giving Ron and Hermione goofy, sloppy kisses on their cheeks. Harry she saved for last, and the kiss she gave him was of a different sort. "C'mon, you lot! Let's dance! This is a party after all, isn't it?"

And the four of them ran out to the dance floor, losing themselves in the music, lights, and laughter of each other, feeling that nothing could harm them, on this last golden evening together.


	13. The Gathering Storm

**A/N - Ok! Now back to the action!**

Hermione pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail and fanned her neck with her free hand. The weather had changed overnight from pleasantly warm to oppressive. Slate-colored clouds gathered along the horizon and the air was heavy and thick. As Hermione watched from her vantage point under the big maple, a grayish mist insinuated itself into the nooks and crannies of the empty pavilions, clinging like something dying to the Burrow's porch.

_What a difference a day makes,_ she thought. Yesterday morning, this same mist seemed to glow with promise, of the wedding to come. Now, twenty four hours later, the white miasma seemed ominous, hiding dangerous things just out of view.

The Burrow was sleeping off its wedding revelry, but Hermione had given up on rest a few hours ago. Despite what she had said to Ginny the morning before, her brain couldn't help revisiting Percy's sudden return and, more specifically, his warning from two nights ago. There had, of course, been a few minutes last night where everything was forgotten, and Hermione had been lost in the blissful present moment. She still wasn't sure she believed it – had Ron really kissed her or had it been a particularly vivid daydream?

The wet grass whispered as someone made their way across the law. Ron appeared, looking solid and real, and not remotely like a vision or dream. His hair was uncombed and his eyes were still sleep-puffed.

"Morning," he grunted, sat down, and sprawled his head across her lap. He grinned as he looked up at her. "Oh, here," he handed her some toast wrapped in a napkin, "I thought this'd be safer than pancakes." He seemed very cozy where he was and put his hand on her leg. _What a difference a day makes,_ Hermione thought again, but this time it made her smile.

"Thanks," she mumbled around a mouthful of bread. Several bits of toast dropped and dusted Ron's cheeks.

"Cute, Hermione – very sexy," Ron said, brushing his face off. "That's probably why I couldn't help myself last night, you're just so irresistible. It actually was a toss-up between you and Hagrid, I couldn't decide who was more delicate and feminine, but in the end –"

"Shut up, Ronald," Hermione placed her hand on his face. It felt so good to be able to just touch him, whenever she wanted to. So much was changing, big and small, all around her, but she looked at him and got the craziest sense of coming home.

"Yes, ma'am," he said humbly, propped himself up, and kissed her. She dropped her toast and put her hands in his hair. The stopped to breathe and grinned goofily at each other.

"Wow," he said, settling himself back in her lap, "Wowie. Totally worth losing shepherd's pie and treacle tart and roast potatoes and –"

"Can I join you two, or am I interrupting?" Harry stood on one side of them, hands in his pocket. Speaking of changes, Hermione knew that the dynamic between the three of them was going to be different. But she didn't worry about it. They all loved each other too much to let anything get in the way of their friendship. Besides, there were more important things to discuss…

"Well, actually, mate, you _are_ interrupting a terribly romantic moment here," Ron started, "I was just staring up Hermione's nostrils while she dropped toast all over my face." They all laughed, and Hermione knew then and there it was all going to be fine with the three of them. Harry settled himself in the grass across from Hermione and Ron sat up.

"So," Harry began.

"So," she and Ron echoed.

Harry looked at Ron. "Percy."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Percy. I'm prejudiced here, I know it. I want…I want to think that as much of a prat as he's been in the past few years, he's being sincere now. Percy's never been my favorite brother, but he's family, you know? I guess it's hard for me to look at this as anything but positive – not that the Ministry knows what we're doing, or having us followed, but that Percy came to his senses and did the right thing. Mum's never been happier." Ron scrubbed his hands over his face, seemed at a loss to continue.

Hermione glanced over at Harry. She knew his feelings were similar to Ron's – but then, Harry really _was_ a more trusting, less-suspicious person than she. He almost always did the right thing and just anticipated the right thing from others. That's why he was such a great friend, and one of the things she admired the most about him. Even after all he'd been through, he could still think the best of almost everyone. Almost. _Snape,_ her mind whispered. Something about that, a small detail, a tiny idea danced just outside her grasp, but she lost it. She shook her head to clear it. If it was important, it'd come back to her. Both of the boys were staring at her, waiting for her analysis of the situation.

"Ok, this is how I see it. As I mentioned to Harry the night of the rehearsal dinner, Percy's not about to make my favorites list any time soon. We have a decision to make here – do we trust him? Or do we still think his loyalty lies with the Ministry? And even then, there's no real easy answer. Maybe we can trust Percy, but maybe he's being fed misinformation by Scrimgeour or someone else high up," Hermione pounded her fist on the ground. "Don't you guys see? I can't explain this one – Harry, unless I'm wrong, you only mentioned going to Godric's Hollow to me and Ron right after Dumbledore's funeral, right? Just after the Minister walked away?" Harry nodded, and Hermione chewed on her lip, thinking, "I don't know how they know, because Hogwarts is protected from all Muggle listening devices and most known magical ones. But…but, I can't say for sure. Perhaps Dumbledore's death weakened the charms on the school, just for a brief time? Or, god, I don't know, were any of the three of us really paying attention? Couldn't someone clever who really wanted to overhear our conversation, have done so in the confusion and grief of the funeral?" She paused, continued, "We have to go to the only source we have." _And it's not 'we', it's Ron. That's the only way this might work._

"Percy," both of the boys said together.

"Yes, but I was thinking –"

"I need to do it alone, right?" Ron had an unreadable expression on his face. She nodded. "You're right. He'll be more likely to tell me the truth, 'cause I'm family, that's what you're thinking? What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"I think she's got a point. Just…" Harry trailed off, caught Hermione's eye. "Ron, look, mate, I know this is touchy territory, but if the conversation doesn't go as planned, or he starts insulting people, don't, you know –"

"Punch him in the face?" Ron finished. "Nah, I'll leave that to Hermione, she's got a mean left hook." The other two laughed. "Actually, I think I heard him puttering around his old room when I left the house a few minutes ago. Now is as good a time to talk to him as any," and with that he pushed himself off the ground and slouched towards the house.

"What are we going to do, Hermione? Either way, we're going to have to regroup. The plan was to hit Godric's Hollow first. That's not going to fly, regardless. We need a new plan, a new way to approach this. Dammit! Nothing's ever simple, is it?" Harry shook his head.

Hermione shook her head and gazed at the approaching thunderheads. They were going to have to approach their quest differently than they'd thought. And if she wasn't mistaken, dark times were heading their way.


	14. Said and Unsaid

The old stairs groaned as Ron made his way towards Percy's bedroom. He couldn't decide whether this was the Burrow's way of spurring him onward or warning him to stop now, before something irreparable was said or done.

Ron knew it was actually his overwhelmed mind, stuffed to the brim with thoughts and feelings, all of them running around inside of him, crashing together like a bunch of hyperactive three-year-olds. The past few months, and especially the past few days, had been pure mental and emotional bombardment.

He remembered a conversation with Harry and Hermione a few years ago. It was right after Harry and Cho's perplexing first kiss, and Hermione had patiently explained to Harry that Cho was feeling scared, guilty, sad, excited, missing Cedric, attracted to Harry, confused and upset. At the time, Ron had unbelievingly told her that no one could feel all those things at once or they'd explode. _She called me an insensitive wart,_ he reminisced, _told me I had as many emotions as a knife or a fork or something...guess it's not surprising that she figured this stuff out a few years before Harry and I did._

Because right now, Ron completely understood what she'd said back then. Here he was, on the steps of his family's house, feeling a jumble of things – his stomach did happy flips every time he thought about Hermione, even if it was recalling her insults; he was terrified about what was in store for them and Harry; he was agitated, confused, hopeful and nervous about confronting his wayward brother. _Growing up is a pain the arse,_ he thought, not for the first time, and knocked on Percy's door.

"Ron," Percy opened the door, "Breakfast already?"

"No, Percy. Almost everyone is still sleeping. I – I – can we talk?"

"Yes, of course, please come in," he ushered him into the spotless room. Ron couldn't help being struck by this. Ron had always thought of Percy as uptight, but now he was forcefully reminded of how different he was from the rest of the loud, messy, joking, slapdash, fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants Weasleys.

They eyed each other in silence for a moment, and Ron took a good look at his brother. He looked terrible. His eyes were scrunched and shadow-rimmed, and though he'd always tended towards slimness, he now resembled a red-headed scarecrow. _He looks forty-one instead of twenty-one,_ Ron thought, and now concern was added to his stew of emotions.

"Perce, listen, I need to ask you about what you said to us the night of the rehearsal dinner. Maybe Mum's alright taking you back into the family fold without so much as a question, but, erm, we – _I'm_ – not convinced." Ron's heart was in his throat. This was very, very hard.

Percy sighed, walked over to the window. "I'm glad you came up here. I apologize for not coming to you first. I shouldn't have said anything about what I knew until after the wedding, but I was overwhelmed. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and of course, Mum," Ron couldn't see his face, but Percy's voice cracked before he continued, "They all just, as you said, took me back. But Fred and George haven't spoken to me at all in two days. Dad seems happy but I can see that he doesn't trust me, not quite. Like you." Percy turned to face him.

Ron felt anger overtake him. "Well, what did you expect, Percy? For me to throw a parade in your honor? You disowned the family, turned your back on Dumbledore, and tried to get me to cut off my best mate! You made Mum cry!" In Ron's eyes these crimes were equal. Sons shouldn't make their mums cry if they could help it. Period.

"Don't you think I know that? Ron, listen, I can't take back the things I've done, but you have to understand why I did what I did."

"I'm waiting."

"This is going to be hard for you to understand, but I'm going to try. I've – I've never really fit in this family, don't you get it? The mess, the noise, the – the clutter – of this place –" he gestured around him, and Ron heard distain in his voice, "This isn't how I want to live. The endless stream of people in and out, everyone on top of each other, in your business, not a minute of privacy, the Knut-pinching and secondhand robes and pathetic post-owl and –"

"WE'RE NOT POOR!" Ron shouted. But, of course, they were. Shame flushed his neck and ears.

"YES WE ARE!" Percy's calm facade broke, "We always have been, and I wasn't about to fall into that trap! When I got the job at the Ministry, it was my way out. I could prove myself, use my education and hard work to establish myself somewhere and gain respect, maybe even obtain some influence and a good salary along the way, instead of winding up like Dad, shunted off to the side in some unimportant job, no career –"

The only thing that prevented Ron from lashing out was his promise to Harry. His friend had foreseen this, and had requested he behave himself. But, oh, it would make him feel so much better to wipe that self-satisfied expression off Percy's mouth. _No, stop. You still need information, you can't go back to Harry and Hermione without finding out what Percy knows._

"Don't worry, Percy. You'll never be like Dad. He puts his family first," Ron said it because it was true, but he wasn't prepared for the look on his brother's face. He looked more stunned then he would've if Ron actually _had_ hit him. His face went gray. In fact, Ron was worried for a minute that Percy might just collapse where he stood. Instead, he staggered over to his bed and almost fell onto the edge of it.

"I know. I know," Percy covered his face with his hands, and the words escaped through his fingers, "All of it, the Ministry, and Umbridge and Fudge and Scrimgeour, it was like a dream come true, at first. Even after the disaster with Mr. Crouch…they seemed to respect me, gave me important assignments, I couldn't believe how well it was all going. Even…even when they started badmouthing Dumbledore, I thought maybe they had a point. He was an extraordinary wizard, but honestly, he was a bit eccentric. He never respected the Ministry, or wizarding laws, the way he should've." Percy looked up at Ron. "Neither did Harry, Ron. And I could see you heading down that path, too."

"You know? I'd rather break a few rules, do things a little differently than the 'Ministry-approved' way, than betray my friends and family. There are ways, Percy, of being successful without turning your back on the people that love you. Look at Fred and George! They've got Galleons falling out of their pockets, their shop has done so well, and lo and behold, they're still on speaking terms with the whole family. Even manage to get Mum to cook them Sunday dinner every week."

A shadow of a grin crossed Percy's lips. "Fred and George. There's what, about a year between us and yet they're more of a mystery to me than anyone else in the family. They're crazy and funny and brave as hell – I can't believe the way they left Hogwarts." Percy paused, "You know, Ron? Sometimes I wonder how I wound up a Gryffindor. I'm not brave at all. I never have been."

These words were like a gigantic spotlight illuminating Ron's mind. This was the opportunity he'd been hoping for. He knew exactly how he had to approach this. Now he understood why Harry and Hermione wanted him to do this without them. _No wonder Hermione always looks like she just won a sweepstakes when she figures something out. This is bloody brilliant._ "Well, Perce, I wouldn't say that. You're here, right? That took some guts. And you want to help Harry – help me – by letting us know the Ministry's watching us. You want to make sure that we go into this with our eyes opened. So, c'mon Perce – be brave, be a Gryffindor, be a _Weasley_ and tell me what you know. We can't make our next move without you." He held his breath. _C'mon. C'mon!_

Percy stood. He walked a few paces away, turned to face his brother. "Alright, Ron. I don't know how much it'll help. But I'll tell you everything I know."


	15. The One-Sided Conversation

Harry gasped as the first cold raindrop hit him. He heard Hermione shift around and looked at her. He had been lost in thought for the past thirty minutes. Both of their heads turned heavenward. The bruise-colored clouds above were tearing open.

"We better make a run for it," she said. She had lapsed into uncharacteristic silence after Ron had left to speak with Percy. Harry knew that brain of hers was going full force, and he didn't want to interrupt her. They reached the porch's protective eaves just as the rain emptied in a nearly-solid sheet of water from the skies.

"Close call," Harry said.

"I think we'd better get used to close calls. I have feeling we're going to run into a few of them in the near future. If we're lucky," Hermione replied grimly. She started pacing the length of the porch. "What is Ron _doing_ up there? What are they _talking_ about?! It's so _frustrating_ just having to just wait!" Her hair crackled with electricity from the air.

"C'mon, Hermione, this situation has to be handled a certain way. What is Ron supposed to do? Once Percy 'fesses up, _if_ he 'fesses up, he can't just say, 'Well, jolly good, thanks for the info, I gotta toddle off and go spill the beans to Harry and Hermione'. This is a serious conversation. They're brothers, after all, that means something," Harry finished, shrugging.

Hermione stopped pacing. Now her eyes were shooting off sparks, just like her hair. "What'd you just say?"

"What? That Ron and Percy are brothers? Hermione, you _know_ this, it's not some revelat-"

"No, no, no, Harry! Not Ron and Percy! I just – brothers, of course – he'd have been close to – he might have known what was going on – what _he'd_ plan to do with the Horcruxes – maybe he changed his mind at the last minute…?" she seemed to have forgotten that Harry was there. But no: "Harry! Do you have the locket that you found when you were with Dumbledore? Better still, do you have the letter from inside the locket?" Hermione was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Harry caught some of her excitement, though, in truth, he was a bit exasperated as well. As Ron had often said, why couldn't she just _tell_ them what she'd thought of instead of tossing _non sequiturs_ into the air and demanding they tag along blindly till they caught up? "Hermione! Look, my brain doesn't move as quickly as yours does. Slow down, tell me what you've thought –"

The back door burst open between them and Ron came out of the Burrow, his face unreadable. Hermione and Harry each grabbed one of his arms.

"So?!"

"That was…a lot to take in," Ron began. "But, I can tell you one thing, for sure – we aren't going to Godric's Hollow in the next few days."

"Ron!" Hermione squealed. "We're _dying_ here! Tell us what Percy said!"

"Yeah, Ron, how'd it go?" Harry couldn't help but smile to himself. Hermione most certainly did not like being uninformed.

"Look…there's a lot to say," Ron pitched his voice low, "Mum's up and about, and I heard the twins heading down for one more breakfast before they head back to Hogsmeade. We need to go somewhere we won't be overheard."

"Yes! Also, Harry and I were just discussing the locket and I thought that –" Hermione stopped herself, continued, "But that can wait. We want to hear what you found out, Ron," she twisted her hands together impatiently.

"Well, there's the broom shed. It's not pretty, but it's private," Ron suggested. They looked at each other, looked at the torrent of water falling from the sky, and dashed towards the rickety wooden building.

They all stood for a moment in the small, dusty shed, catching their breath. Harry couldn't help but remember that the last time he was in this shed, he was with Dumbledore. He tried to ignore the sadness that seeped into the cracks of his heart and took out his wand, pointed it at himself and his friends in turn so that their damp clothes steamed dry. Without a word, Harry and Hermione settled themselves on the small wooden bench that held several moldy jars of broom polish, and gazed up at Ron, who was leaning against the latched door.

Harry noticed that Ron seemed uncomfortable at their solemn attention. He cleared his throat. "So, well, where do I start…?" he trailed off, overwhelmed.

"How about with why we can't go to Godric's Hollow? How did Percy know we were going to be there?" Harry urged. He understood how Ron was feeling, but he was eager to hear what had transpired between the brothers.

"Well…" Ron started, "Ok, look you two, I want to say one thing before I get started here. I believe that Percy told me the truth. Or, _I_ think that _he_ thinks everything he told me is the truth…I mean, I don't think he's trying to trick us…" Ron threw his hands in the air in frustration, "Do you know what I'm saying?"

"You trust his motives," Hermione offered.

"Yes," Ron gave her a smile, continued "So, here's what happened. Percy told me he's been questioning the Ministry's effectiveness for awhile now, especially since Fudge got booted from his position. He said that although Scrimgeour is tough and most of the lower-level Ministry employees respect and even fear him, there's a lot fighting and backstabbing at the top. No one trusts anyone else anymore and people have been spending more time since Scrimgeour's appointment gossiping about this one and that one rather than doing their jobs," Ron paused, grinned, "You can imagine how Percy felt about people shirking their jobs." He leaned against the rickety shed door, crossed his arms over his chest. He was settling into his story.

"Well, Scrimgeour had been keeping Percy close by for awhile, ever since last Christmas, when they came here under false pretenses," Ron looked disgusted for a moment, "I guess he felt that Percy had proven his loyalty or something. When…when Dumbledore died, Scrimgeour told Percy he had a very important project for him, and –" Ron didn't seem able to go on.

"What is it, mate?" Harry questioned.

"It's just – just – how _stupid_ Percy was! For someone so smart, he was just so – so blind to how they were using him to get information on –on you, and Dumbledore and –"

"Everyone has a part of them that wants to feel important, Ron. Fudge, Scrimgeour, Umbridge – they all saw that part of Percy and used it to their benefit," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, well, Harry, you know if I hadn't promised you I wouldn't deck him…" he trailed off, then picked up the thread of his story again, "Anyway, Scrimgeour came to Percy after he heard about Dumbledore's death. He asked Percy to accompany him to the funeral and, as he put it, 'be his eyes and ears'. Percy was to report back to Scrimgeour everything he possibly could about what was said or done by anyone close to Dumbledore at the funeral. But – but the Minister made it clear to Percy that he wasn't to approach Harry. Or, for that matter, you or me, Hermione."

"Why?"

"Because he had his own plans for us, right, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron sighed, "Scrimgeour trusted Percy's loyalty to the Ministry to an extent - although, by that time, Percy was beginning to have doubts of his own - but apparently not enough to question Harry…who, aside from a few Death Eaters, was the last person to spend any time with Dumbledore. Scrimgeour also had enough information at hand to know that what Harry knows, all three of know. He had something else in mind for us…"

"What was it?" Harry pressed.

"He found a way to listen in on our conversation at the funeral, according to Percy. A few nights ago, the night of the rehearsal dinner, Percy was working very late – he actually came right from the Ministry to the Burrow that night – and he said he was trying to keep his mind off the wedding. He was feeling bad about not coming to the wedding, he said, he wasn't sure how everyone would react if he _did_ show up," Ron paused, cleared his throat, "Anyway, the offices were empty and dark, Percy thought everyone had gone home for the night. He walked past this supply closet, you know, where they store quills and such and – and, ok, here's where I am taking a leap of faith regarding Percy – I have a hard time believe that the Minister wouldn't be more cautious, but it was late and no one's perfect right? So, Percy walks by this closet or whatever it is, and the door's cracked open a bit. He hears Scrimgeour's voice coming from inside of it. He stops, of course. It's late, there's no one else around, and why is the Minister of Magic in a storage cupboard?"

Harry and Hermione were perched on the very edge of the bench. "Ron! Get on with it!" They both cried.

"Right. Right! Ok, so Percy hears the Minister's voice coming from the supply cupboard. It seemed to be a one-sided conversation. Scrimgeour was talking to someone, but Percy didn't hear anyone else, and he could only see Scrimgeour's back. Scrimgeour was saying something like, 'Good, good. Well, you've been able to avoid detection so far, I have faith in you…we know they're heading to Godric's Hollow shortly after that Weasley wedding, Potter himself said it. That's the key – you have to follow them there and report back to me, once you discover what they're doing.' Percy said that Scrimgeour paused for a moment, as if listening to someone. Then he said, 'Yes, yes, don't worry about that. The Ministry appreciates your assistance with this. You'll be compensated accordingly.' Percy said that the Minister almost caught him eavesdropping. He turned and practically ran back to his desk, trying to be as quiet as possible. Scrimgeour showed up about fifteen minutes later, blustering at Percy for being such a hard worker, et cetera, and suggested to him he should attend Bill and Fleur's wedding. And come back this week with a full report. And…and that's that," Ron seemed exhausted.

The three of them looked at each other for a minute, and then Hermione leapt to her feet. "What does this mean? Who could the Minister have been talking to? Do we believe Percy? Sorry, Ron, but do we? God, I think this creates more questions than answers and I'll be –" she was interrupted by a pounding on the shed door.

"Who is it?!" The three of them cried in unison.

"It's Ginny - and it's pissing down house elves out here, so open the bloody door!" They all laughed and Harry swung the door open. Ginny stood there, her red hair plastered to her face in wet strips.

"Gin, I'm sorry," he started gently, taking off his jacket and putting it around her shoulders, "We're just discussing some stuff that's –"

"I know, I know," she rolled her eyes, "only for the Secret Order of the Society of You Three." She took any bitterness out of the words with a rain-soaked kiss. "I just came to tell you lot – come to lunch, Mum says. Actually not just Mum – Lupin's here. And he says he needs to talk to all of you. He says it's about Grimmauld Place."


	16. Eyes and Ears

The three of them stood in the doorway of the old shed and watched Ginny run across the lawn, Harry's jacket held over her head to protect her from the lashing rain.

"Wonder what Lupin wants?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

Hermione had an idea about that, but she wanted her friends to focus on the discussion at hand. "I think I know what Lupin wants, and if I'm right, it's going to help us tremendously. But first, what are we going to do with the information Ron got from Percy?" she started, and Ron and Harry exchanged glances. _Bossy_, is what that exchange said, and Hermione sighed. She knew she took control of things sometimes, but honestly, how else was anything going to get done?

"You're right, Hermione," Harry finally said, and Ron grunted in agreement. "So, do we believe Percy? I'm going vote for moving forward based on the idea that the information he gave Ron was true, to the best of his knowledge. Hermione?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She hesitated. She just wasn't sure…but they had to believe something, they had to make some sort of decision. She gazed at Ron for a moment. Being friends with her and Harry was probably tough on him sometimes. The accidental hero and the girl who seemed to have an answer for everything all the time. _But I don't,_ she thought, frustrated, _I don't have answer for all of this. But we can't just stand in the spidery old shed forever. We have to move forward. Ok. Ok, I most certainly don't have complete faith in Percy. But, but I DO have complete faith in Ron. _

"I think…I agree with you guys. For now, let's take Percy's story at face value. We're just going to have to be careful, that's all," she said. She couldn't help but notice the grateful expression that flashed across Ron's face. "But…can I say something?" It wouldn't do any of them any good if what she said fell on deaf ears. She needed their attention.

"Of course," Harry said.

"Please, Ms. Know-It-All, we're all a-flutter to hear what fascinating things you have to say," Ron said, batting his eyelashes at her.

"Funny, really, Ron," she replied. She took a deep breath. "Ok, two things you guys. One is, since we're taking Percy on his word, we have to assume we're being watched. By no one less than the Minister of Magic. And, we're not really sure of Scrimgeour's motives. What do we know about him, really? He was an Auror, ok. He and Dumbledore didn't see eye to eye, fine. He's –"

"A politically-motivated slimeball," Harry interjected, disgusted.

"Right, Harry. But that doesn't make him evil or a Death Eater or anything even remotely like that," she concluded. "What we need to remember is that the Ministry is made up of _lots_ of people. Some of them may be working for Voldemort. Stop wincing, Ron. For example, we know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy had the ears and pockets of many Ministry employees. But, there are also a lot of people there actively working against Voldemort, like your Dad, Ron. And Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Ministry is made up of dozens of people, all with their own individual agendas. And part of Scrimgeour's seems to be keeping tabs on Harry. For his own reasons, whatever they may be."

"So…if we don't think that Scrimgeour is working for the Death Eaters or out to hurt Harry, then why do we even care that he's watching us? Sure, it's a crap thing to do, but does it really matter?" Ron queried.

"Yes, Ron, it does," Harry said thoughtfully, "Hermione's right, I don't think Scrimgeour would ever _knowingly_ work for Voldemort, even under threat or duress. And while it's _possible_ he's under the Imperius Curse, I don't think it's probable. But even assuming that the Minister is having us followed for his own, less-threatening reasons, it's going make things harder for us, more dangerous. I don't know about you guys, but the Ministry hasn't done much in the past few years to get any votes of confidence from me. Chances are, he's going to draw more attention to us, intentionally or not. And it's simple numbers. The more people that know about the Horcruxes and any details surrounding our search, the greater chance that the information will reach the wrong ears…" Harry trailed off, though it seemed like he had something else on his mind.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione urged.

"It's – it's something Dumbledore said to me. About the prophecy, and how – how much store Voldemort has put into it."

"You mean all that stuff about one of you having to die?" Ron had paled considerably .

"Yeah," Harry replied, "But Dumbledore said the difference between Voldemort and me is that I didn't have to believe any prophecy. Dumbledore – he – he understood that no matter what, whether that prophecy existed or not, that I won't –_can't_ – rest until Voldemort's dead." He stopped for a moment and looked straight at them. "But it's not just that I want him dead, you guys. I don't want the Ministry or anyone else to know what we're up to, because, I want to do it myself. I _need_ to do it myself. For Dumbledore. For Sirius. For my mum and dad. No one is going to take that away from me, not Scrimgeour, not anyone." His voice was low and urgent.

Hermione felt an icy hand squeeze her heart. Not for the first time, or the last she was sure, she thought, _It'll be a miracle if we all make it through this alive. It really will._ Panic fluttered in her throat like a trapped bird. "We understand, Harry, we do." She managed to choke the words out.

Ron looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. "So…Hermione, you said there were two things you wanted to tell us…what's the other?" He reached out his hand and place it on Harry's shoulder. Hermione wasn't sure if it was to offer comfort to Harry or to steady himself.

"Well, the other thing we're going to have to face is that the spy – for lack of a better word – that Scrimgeour is working with could really be just about anyone. I don't know about you guys, but I was pretty distracted at Dumbledore's funeral. I'm sure that's what Scrimgeour was counting on. And while Hogwarts is one of the most magically protected sites in the world, it's not impervious to stealth. Rita Skeeter, for example. If the Minster asked her to, I'm sure it'd take her all of thirty seconds to agree to using her Animagus abilities to get dirt on us, especially if they were paying her enough," Hermione paused, scowled, "But it's even worse than that, really. I mean, we should know better than most that even an Invisibility Cloak will keep you out of sight if you're careful about being quiet. There's endless possibilities, really, and Scrimgeour struck when Hogwarts' enchantments were at their weakest…right after Dumbledore died but before anyone could recoup."

"So…so what are we going to do then?" Harry said helplessly. "What you're saying then, Hermione, is that we could be being watched and listened to at any time, any place - that there's no where we can go and know we can speak freely? How are we going to do this?"

Hermione pulled both of her friends in close, so that their noses were almost touching. "No, Harry. That's the thing. I think there is somewhere we can go, in fact. And not only can we stay there and plan freely, I think there may be another piece of the puzzle there…at _least_ one in fact," her voice was barely a whisper and heart was beating hard and fast in her chest. "We're going to talk to Lupin right now. Because Ron's right, we're not going to Godric's Hollow first – we're going to Grimmauld place."


	17. Order of Business

_Grimmauld Place?_ Ron thought as the three of them tore across the lawn, pelted by cold raindrops. _Why do we want to go to Grimmauld Place?_ Once again, Hermione's brain was several steps ahead of his and Harry's. And, hadn't she mentioned something about the locket earlier, when he'd first come to speak with them? Ron wasn't sure if he could handle anymore information right now.

Harry walked into the Burrow just ahead of him and Hermione. Ron smelled potatoes and frying mushrooms and suddenly felt hungrier than he had since the arrival of a certain best friend of his. His lunch dreams were interrupted by a damp hand on his wrist. Hermione's wild hair was dotted with raindrops. _Almost as nice as the rhinestones,_ he thought and smiled to himself.

"I – I just wanted to say that, well, what you did with Percy was brilliant. Really," she smiled at him, laced her fingers through his. "I just hope – hope that he appreciates what an amazing brother - _family_ - he has. I want to believe he does." She grinned at him.

His chest felt as if it were filled with a warm, buoyant substance. He noticed her pink cheeks and felt her fingers pressed into his hand. _Bloody hell, he thought, how long is this going to last? I can't even look at her without feeling like I've gone barking mad. But in a good way._ "Thanks. Thanks," he paused, more aware then ever of the places where their bodies almost touched. "Uh…Hermione? You're going to have to stop holding my hand and stuff, I think..." _Then maybe I can actually eat some lunch...if I don't stare at you the entire time…_

Hermione reacted as if his hand had become burning hot. She yanked her own free and stepped away from him. "Well, you didn't seem to mind before, so I just thought that –" With one step Ron closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her. _You git,_ he thought, grinning into the top of her head, _She's smart, but she's no mind reader. She has no idea what you're on about!_

"Ron?" Muffled, from somewhere near his armpit.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I know the past few seconds made absolutely no sense to you. They hardly made sense to me," he laughed. She craned her neck up at him. "I was just thinking about how good lunch smelled and Mum's cooking and all, and then you complimented me –" now he was the one blushing, but she was listening very closely to him, and he was very aware of each breath she took and the warmth of her back through her t-shirt. "- and I was just thinking that – that – if I didn't figure out a way to be around you without feeling like I do before a Quidditch match, I'd never eat again."

"Quidditch! With you boys it _always_ comes back to Quidditch, doesn't it?" But she was smiling. "Ronald Weasely, without an appetite? Seems impossible…" now she was teasing him. She kissed him quickly, but he held her tight for a minute longer.

"What does Lupin want? I _know_ you know."

"I _think_ I know. I'm not sure but I think it's –"

"C'mon, you lovebirds, Remus really needs to speak with you lot together, and he's already running late," Tonks' head, sporting a very dark, shoulder-length hairdo, popped out of the kitchen window.

"Hey, Tonks! We were just coming," Hermione greeted the older girl, her face turning pinker.

As he looked at her, Ron couldn't help but feel that this was the beginning of it – the start of their quest. Once the two of them walked into the kitchen, everything was going to change for him, Harry and Hermione.

"Hermione?"

Her hand was on the back door. "Yes, Ron?"

"You…you scared?"

"No," she said, "No, actually – I'm terrified."

Somehow, it made it easier knowing this. "Me too," he replied. "Me too."

"Well, Mr. Weasely," she began, trying on a lopsided smile, "Let's just tackle lunch first – that is, if you can handle it." Their laughter as they walked into the Burrow didn't make the fear disappear, but Ron thought it made it a bit more bearable.

"Ok, we're all here," Lupin smiled at Ron and Hermione as they entered the kitchen. Tonks was seated next to him, digging her spoon appreciatively into a plate of shepherd's pie. Harry and Ginny were standing by the stove, receiving steaming plates from Mrs. Weasely. Ron noticed with a start the pair at the far end of the table. His Dad and Percy were sitting across from each other, oblivious to the rest of the group, talking quietly. As he watched, his Dad said something, and Percy chuckled and muttered, "Well, Dad, you've got me there." Arthur clapped his hand on Percy's shoulder.

Ron noticed his Mum's gaze kept sliding towards them, the hopeful look on her face squeezing his heart. She caught him looking and smiled hesitantly. He returned it. _I really hope Percy's telling the truth. I really do. Because if he's not, I may just have to –_

"That's because of you, Ron," Hermione's voice pitched to a whisper, nodding at his Dad and brother. He smiled, took a seat at the table as everyone settled down for lunch.

"Well, I guess we can get started!" Lupin began over the sound of clinking forks and plates, "I'm here for a few reasons, the first being is that I'd like to formally invite four people sitting at this table - all of whom I've had the pleasure of teaching - to become members of the Order of the Phoenix." He smiled at Harry, Ron, Hermione...and Percy, who looked shocked.

"Really Professor? _All_ of us?" Hermione queried, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Ron could tell she hadn't meant to ask this question aloud, and Percy was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes, Hermione, all of you. Percy and Arthur will be working on a special project together for the Order -" he nodded at the two men, "- and, as Harry's had his birthday - oh, that reminds me Harry, I've something for you later - you three are of age and I think that -"

"They may be of age, Remus," Molly interrupted, "but their still students! We made the twins wait until they'd left school, and I know we've discussed this, however -"

"Molly, I understand your concerns. But things are different then they were even a year ago, wouldn't you say? Every single person at this table - and yes, Ginny, you're included in that comment, and you'd be getting your own invitation if you were of age as well - everyone at this table has shown that they are committed to the cause and capable of working against Dark wizards. And I know no matter what anyone says, Molly, Harry's in this 'til the end, or am I wrong, Harry?"

"You're not wrong, Professor. Until the end, as you say. Whatever that end is," Ron hadn't ever seen his friend so fierce, and he noticed Ginny's face pale considerably under its smattering of freckles. She clutched Harry's wrist tightly.

"I expected no less from you, Harry, and I also understand about the bonds of friendship, having been lucky enough to have several extraordinary ones of my own," Lupin cast a significant look at Tonks, "I appreciate the fact that where you go and whatever obstacles you face, these two won't be far behind. If history serves as example," he gestured at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione simply nodded, but Ron cleared his throat, "You're right, Professor. Harry knows that whatever needs to be done, no matter what it is - sorry, Mum! - we're here to help him. There's really no question about it." He looked down at his hands, but he could feel everyone's eyes on him. His risked a glance at his best mate. Harry nodded imperceptibly, thanks filling his eyes.

"Oh, Ronnie!" His Mum was sniffling, looking proudly at him with red-rimmed eyes. Ron felt an odd mixture of seriously uncomfortable and very very pleased. There was a moment where no one spoke.

"Erm...Professor? Ginny mentioned that you were here about Number 12 Grimmauld?" Hermione broke the silence, a tiny gleam in her eye. Oh, Ron knew it. _We'd do worse than to have Hermione running the Ministry...though there'd probably be a ridiculous amount of rules._ He chuckled to himself.

"Yes, Hermione, I do have a bit of business about Number 12, and if I'm not mistaken, the cleverest witch of her age already knows what it is," Lupin teased her, and she blushed, but there was no mistaking the admiration in his voice. "Do you want to clue everyone else in?"

"Well, no, Professor, it's really Order business, and I'm not entirely sure what's -" Hermione stammered.

"Alright, I'll leave you be for now, but I'd like to say I don't envy your professors this year. You'll be teaching them, more like than not," Lupin finished, and she, Harry and Ron guiltily avoided each other's gaze. "As Hermione so kindly reminded me, I have one other piece of Order business to attend to before I take leave of you all. Harry, I know that Dumbledore told you last year that Sirius had willed you his old family house. We were glad to discover that despite wizarding traditions of property passing from blood relative to blood relative, that you, and not Bellatrix Lestrange, are the rightful owner of Number 12 Grimmauld. This is important primarily because of the house elf, Kreacher, and all the of Order's business he knows, but also because Number 12 is a powerful house with many many layers of magical history and enchantments on it. The building itself, and the contents of it, are assets to the Order. That is, of course, if you are willing to let us use it," he finished.

"Of course, Professor, I told Dumbledore last year that the Order could stay at Grimmauld Place as long as they'd like," Harry said.

"Well, Harry, that's very generous of you, and I am sure the Order would love, once again, to have a place to call 'home'. There's one thing we have to do first beforehand, though, and as the current owner of Grimmauld Place, you are the only one capable of doing so," Lupin began. Ron felt Hermione's legs moving anxiously back and forth under the table next to him.

"What's that, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Well, Harry, with Dumbledore's death, a lot of people lost a lot of things. The Order, for one, lost its Secret Keeper. I'm here today, Harry, because if the Order's headquarters is to be Number 12 Grimmauld, _you_ will have to appoint a new one. And I suggest you choose carefully."


	18. A New Password

"You have to be the one, Harry. Sirius appointed Dumbledore, and now _you_ have to appoint someone else," Lupin looked expectantly at him. Harry felt Ginny hand press even harder on his wrist. Ron and Mrs. Weasely had slightly puzzled, worried expressions on their faces. Hermione, he noticed, seemed anxious but not the least bit surprised.

"I don't understand, Professor. You know where Number 12 Grimmauld is, why can't _you_– or anyone in the Order for that matter – appoint a new Secret Keeper?" Harry honestly didn't want anymore responsibilities right now. The world seemed to be crushing in on him and _wait a second_ there was a flaw to this plan anyway –

"You can't use Grimmauld place, Professor! SNAPE knows where it is!" Harry nearly spat the words from his mouth.

"You're right, Harry, and that's why I'm here, because the sooner we appoint a new Secret Keeper, the sooner Number 12 will be safe again, from, erm, any former members of the Order," Lupin's normally calm expression darkened for a moment. "How much do you know about the Fidelius Charm?"

Harry exchanged very quick glances with Ron and Hermione. Most of what he knew about the Fidelius Charm came from Professor Flitwick's brief description nearly four years ago….and never mind that this description was overheard and took place during a conversation that he and his friends had been eavesdropping on.

"Well…I know it's a tough spell. And that it conceals a secret inside a person. That – that the only way a secret hidden by the Fidelius Charm can be revealed is if the Secret Keeper chooses to reveal it. I also know that by choosing the wrong Secret Keeper, my parents got themselves killed," Harry said this last bit without realizing how bitter it would sound, without realizing that maybe he was a little angry with his parents…for trusting the wrong person. Lupin seemed like he wanted to address this, but didn't say anything. "But, Professor, that's not the point. The point is, how can Number 12 Grimmauld possibly be safe if Snape knows where it is?"

"That's a good question Harry, and I'm actually going to let the expert handle this one," he gestured to Tonks, the corners of his mouth twitching with a whisper of a grin. "Nympha - _Tonks_ – was kind enough to accompany me here this afternoon, because she's the one that will be performing the Fidelius Charm today. I'm going to leave it to her to explain to you."

"Well, you lot, what Harry said about the Fidelius Charm is right, but it doesn't give you the full scope of the spell," Tonks began, waving her hands around in a circle and knocking over her water glass. "Whoops, sorry Molly. Anyway, you're right Harry, the charm is meant to 'store' a secret inside one person. The secret can _only_ be revealed by the Secret Keeper, the person who houses the secret. You're right to be worried about Snape, but only because, at the present time, the location of Number 12 isn't protected by the Fidelius Charm."

"But Tonks, I don't understand. Snape _knows_ where Grimmauld is. He won't just – just – forget, right?" Harry was frustrated.

"Ok…hmmm. How can I explain how the charm works?" Tonks drummed her fingers on the table and Hermione reached out to still her newly-refilled, wobbling water glass. "I've got it! Think of Number 12 as the Gryffindor common room, the Fidelius Charm as the portrait of the Fat Lady, and the Secret Keeper as the _password_ that lets you in. See? Once the Secret Keeper changes, you start from zero. So, all the people who learned about Number 12 from Dumbledore would no longer have the right 'password'. Me, Remus, Molly, Arthur, the whole Order, including Snape – the _new_ Secret Keeper would have to tell us again. We don't forget, per se, but we no longer have the means to enter. It would be the same as if you were standing in front of the Fat Lady without the right password. You know the common room is there, but you can't _get_ to it anymore. Does that make sense?"

It did, and everyone else nodded, understanding lighting their eyes. Hermione's, especially, seemed nearly on fire. Harry saw that Lupin's smile had grown a bit, and he was watching Tonks with admiration.

"Couldn't have said it better myself! So, Harry, as owner of Number 12, the location is _your_ information to give to a Secret Keeper that you choose." Lupin's smile faded a bit as he continued. "I won't lie to you, Harry. You have to choose someone you trust explicitly, but that's not all. The Secret Keeper _must_ understand that he or she could wind up being – being tortured – to reveal the headquarters' location if they ever found themselves at the mercy of a Death Eater. I'd offer myself, but – well, let's just say the work I'm doing for the Order – not to mention my 'furry little problem,'-" he gave Harry a strained grin, "doesn't make me the best candidate."

Everyone sat quietly for a minute, and Harry could feel both Ron and Hermione preparing to speak. He also knew that if Mr. and Mrs. Weasely weren't in the room, Ginny's voice would be added to the conversation in no time flat. _I can't let any of them put themselves in danger like that, I WON'T let them._

"Professor, can't I just be the Secret Keeper myself and –"

"Well, Mum, I know you won't be happy about this, but Harry, I'll do it if-"

"Harry! I knew this is what Lupin wanted and I'm more than happy to do –"

He, Ron and Hermione had all begun speaking at once. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.

"I won't let either of you put yourself in that position! Professor, I want to be the Secret Keeper myself for Number –"

"Oh, Harry! Don't you see? You can't be the Secret Keeper, it's so _obvious_ and you already have enough –"

"Hermione's right, mate, you've gotta let one of us take it on, and I don't think she should, so I'll do it –"

"What d'you mean, Ronald? I am just as capable as you are of –"

"That's enough, you lot, though there's no doubt you're all Gryffindors. Harry, Hermione's right, you can't add Secret Keeper to your growing list of responsibilities. Of course, I anticipated Ron or Hermione offering to fill the position, and, seeing that, at least for another year, all of you will be relatively safe at Hogwarts, this is probably the wisest choice. Well, you'll be as safe as any of us can be," Lupin finished. Harry was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable about lying to everyone about their return to school.

"Professor? Tonks? Mr. and Mrs. Weasely? I'm sorry – but, but I think that Harry, Ron and I need to discuss this, um, privately," Hermione's voice was soft and modulated, but she seemed to be sending urgent signals to Ron and Harry with her eyes.

"Of course," Lupin nodded, and Tonks followed suit. Mrs. Weasely opened her mouth to say something but took a sip of her tea instead. Percy and Mr. Weasely seemed only peripherally involved in the conversation, Percy speaking quickly and urgently to his father.

"Let's go talk upstairs, guys," Ron stood up, and he and Hermione ascended the steps. Harry went to follow and realized he wasn't alone. Ginny was next to him, her face pale and her lips pressed together. They reached the first landing and just stood there for a moment.

"Gin, I just – I don't know what I can say – it's not that-," he stopped. He was out of words for the moment.

"No, Harry, but I do know what to say. I'm trying to keep it together here, but I'm in a very frustrating position. Dammit! I wish I was seventeen! But even then, I'm not sure I'd choose to do what the three of you are doing. Mum…Dad…they're going to be absolutely mad with worry when they find out what you guys have planned. I know Ron spoke with Percy this morning, and if _he_ knows what you guys are up to, chances are other people do too," Ginny's hand tightened on his arm. "Look, Harry, I love you the way you are and I don't want you to change but…"

Harry lost the thread of the conversation. She'd just said she loved him. He supposed he knew that, but still, his heart bounced up and down a few times in his chest. She _loved _him.

"…and the danger of it doesn't faze me. It's just that, I want to be informed. Tell me everything, even the bad stuff. I just need to know what's going on. Harry? Harry, are you listening to me at all? Harry?" Ginny's hand left his arm and came to a rest on his cheek.

"You said you loved me."

"Well, yes, course I do, but you're missing the point completely," she seemed put out by the whole thing, but as she rolled her eyes at him, Harry's heart was as light as it had been since this day began a thousand years ago.

"Ginny, I'm not sure how I got so lucky, but I love you, too," Harry laughed, and kissed her forehead, her freckled cheeks, then her mouth for good measure. "And I can't promise to stop protecting you, but I do promise, as you requested to keep you 'informed' as best I can."

She smiled at him, with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Don't tell me the hero of our age can't tell when a girl loves him? What did you think, I wanted to be your pen pal or something?"

"Come _on_, Harry!" Hermione's bushy head popped around the next set of risers on the staircase, "We really need to discuss this now."

"Coming, Hermione. But Ginny's joining us," they resumed their ascent up the staircase.

"Well, obviously she is, she deserves to know what's going on. Now, hurry up!" Hermione huffed, spun and walked into Ron's room.

Harry and Ginny giggled. "That's what I love most about Hermione, really," Ginny began, "She's such a sweet, patient person."

Harry laughed, but his insides were in a jumble. In a few minutes, he was going to have to choose which of his best friends to put in more danger.


End file.
